For the last several months I’ve been re-treading a familiar path between blogging platforms - one I have walked before. From self-hosted WordPress, through Posterous, across Tumblr, and finally landing at Blogger. If anybody described a “journeyman”, or “wanderer” in the blogging community, they would surely be describing me.
I never seem to have “found my place” online. The memberships of social networks are swept into unruly piles in the corners of the browser cache - Facebook, Google+, Twitter, LinkedIn, Posterous, Disqus, and more. Too many places to possible frequent on anything like a regular basis. I’ve become a kind of Gandalf, vanishing for generations and then turning up at people’s doors without warning to start another adventure, full of enthusiasm each time, but never really trusted to stick around.
I’m making no promises, but at least I know I’m here for the right reasons this time.
I need somewhere to write. Somewhere to record. The addition of “social” to so many platforms had caused me to lose sight of why I have written so much online in the past. The words, stories, and memories I record are reallyfor my children, and future generations - so they and their children might know who I once was, what I thought about, and what my hopes and dreams might have been.
You see, I am one of the old guard. A “real” blogger. I’ve been writing online in one shape or another for nearly ten years. My words have travelled the world aboard most of the popular platforms during that time - from hand written HTML files, PHP scripts, LiveJournal, Vox, Blogger, TypePad, WordPress, Posterous, Tumblr… over three thousand posts. Something in the region of half a million words.
I have a fairly complete record of those words tucked away somewhere safe, and occasionally fetch them out to admire them - recalling past times as future generations might.
That’s why I’m here, I guess. Emptying my head into the computer screen. Recording theminutiae, the silly, the (hopefully) interesting, the amusing and the mundane. Most importantly the mundane.
Everything is interesting to somebody. Isn’t it?