So I thought I’d try blogging again.
Is this still a thing?
I suppose the mere act of asking that question WHILST blogging threatens to create a sentient meta-monster, eh?
Anyway.
I remember a time when I was part of what felt like a thriving blog community. John McCollum had an epic blog. Erik Peterson’s is still around if you’re feeling nostalgic. Joshua & Zena Neds-Fox remain the gold standard, in my opinion. Michael Gallagher, Andy Taylor, Andy Whitman, Chelsea Kay, Jamie Dellesky, Jeff Cannell, Jess Aebi, Karen James, Maureen Okonkwo, etc, etc, etc. I could probably name a dozen more.
Nearly all of the blogs that were part of this community are now dead links, access protected sites or still showing some random post from January of 2009 at the top of the page.
So. What happened?
I suppose Twitter happened. And Facebook. These sites did most of the work for us - locating friends, creating readership, allowing for multiple media types, easing the move to mobile devices, easing entry by shortening the format, etc. And these sites allowed us to trade the patience, earnestness and cultivation that goes into a well-crafted blog post for the quick & dirty sarcasm of a hastily typed rejoinder to a friend’s post or some national story. I lost something of myself in this trade.
My old Wordpress blog still stands just as it was on January 18th, 2009 - the last day I posted. The Youtube videos aren’t working any longer and lots of the links are dead, but there it is anyway - a living fossil that is at once preposterously dated yet still receiving monthly traffic. If you scroll back through the blog, you’ll find me struggling to come to grips with how the social media world was shifting and how to process my own angst - I increasingly posted videos and huge blocks of quotes from articles I read and eschewed the kind of thoughtful, introspective and challenging prose that had first made the medium attractive. I resorted to diatribes that remained entirely disconnected from my own humanity and from the humanity of others. Sarcasm served as a sufficient proxy for thoughtfulness and righteous indignation left little room for patient reflection. I came to blogging to find my voice but it seemed as though my voice had been co-opted by something else deep inside me. Something I didn’t like.
So I left.
With no clear path back to safe ground, I opted for disengagement. And sometimes that’s all we can do. And it seemed like a lot of us did that same thing right around the same time.
Poof.
Gone.
Since then it’s been all facebook posts and likes and retweets and 140 characters and the occasional link to a oh-isn’t-that-precious-someone-still-has-a blog. And the new formats have scrunched us down to the bare minimum - The long-format blog at least allowed space to be expansively vulnerable and thoughtfully introspective. The short-format of the new social media world seemingly leaves us with one prominent option: sharpen up our sarcastic witticisms and cut out the introspective fat.
One part of me thrived in this new world. I can dial up the sarcasm to 11 and go tit-for-tat with the best of them on a range of issues.
And, boy, did I. Oh, man. Heavens.
It felt good. It really did. And it still does sometimes.
But it took some time for the gaping emptiness to clearly come into focus. There was no space for me to sit and type and process and patiently probe my own mind and heart. To do so was anathema to the short-format; a betrayal of the new medium. And so I again chose the path of disengagement.
I closed my Facebook account.
I logged off Twitter.
And this seemed to help. I was able to refocus on relationships and my own vibrant personal life without the counter-productive mindset that seemed to come hand-in-hand with my media feeds.
Reintegration with social media since then has been a halting affair filled with some personal failings but a lot of successful balancing. But I still long to patiently cultivate posts that engender thoughtful introspection. I still need to be myself - to find that vulnerable voice that engages the world not with sarcastic wit but with a softened heart.
And so here I am again. Blogging. I know I don’t want this to simply be an extension of my Facebook/Twitter pages but I also have no idea what else it could be…
What does rebirth look like?
This blog could be something I come back to regularly. Something that fits into the natural rhythm of my life. Something that garners steady readership. Or it could be more of a barely-read journal just for me. Or I could visit this space in 4 years and see this vulnerable, solitary post at the top.
All alone.
Waiting to be remembered and tried again.
Is this still a thing?
I suppose the mere act of asking that question WHILST blogging threatens to create a sentient meta-monster, eh?
Anyway.
I remember a time when I was part of what felt like a thriving blog community. John McCollum had an epic blog. Erik Peterson’s is still around if you’re feeling nostalgic. Joshua & Zena Neds-Fox remain the gold standard, in my opinion. Michael Gallagher, Andy Taylor, Andy Whitman, Chelsea Kay, Jamie Dellesky, Jeff Cannell, Jess Aebi, Karen James, Maureen Okonkwo, etc, etc, etc. I could probably name a dozen more.
Nearly all of the blogs that were part of this community are now dead links, access protected sites or still showing some random post from January of 2009 at the top of the page.
So. What happened?
I suppose Twitter happened. And Facebook. These sites did most of the work for us - locating friends, creating readership, allowing for multiple media types, easing the move to mobile devices, easing entry by shortening the format, etc. And these sites allowed us to trade the patience, earnestness and cultivation that goes into a well-crafted blog post for the quick & dirty sarcasm of a hastily typed rejoinder to a friend’s post or some national story. I lost something of myself in this trade.
My old Wordpress blog still stands just as it was on January 18th, 2009 - the last day I posted. The Youtube videos aren’t working any longer and lots of the links are dead, but there it is anyway - a living fossil that is at once preposterously dated yet still receiving monthly traffic. If you scroll back through the blog, you’ll find me struggling to come to grips with how the social media world was shifting and how to process my own angst - I increasingly posted videos and huge blocks of quotes from articles I read and eschewed the kind of thoughtful, introspective and challenging prose that had first made the medium attractive. I resorted to diatribes that remained entirely disconnected from my own humanity and from the humanity of others. Sarcasm served as a sufficient proxy for thoughtfulness and righteous indignation left little room for patient reflection. I came to blogging to find my voice but it seemed as though my voice had been co-opted by something else deep inside me. Something I didn’t like.
So I left.
With no clear path back to safe ground, I opted for disengagement. And sometimes that’s all we can do. And it seemed like a lot of us did that same thing right around the same time.
Poof.
Gone.
Since then it’s been all facebook posts and likes and retweets and 140 characters and the occasional link to a oh-isn’t-that-precious-someone-still-has-a blog. And the new formats have scrunched us down to the bare minimum - The long-format blog at least allowed space to be expansively vulnerable and thoughtfully introspective. The short-format of the new social media world seemingly leaves us with one prominent option: sharpen up our sarcastic witticisms and cut out the introspective fat.
One part of me thrived in this new world. I can dial up the sarcasm to 11 and go tit-for-tat with the best of them on a range of issues.
And, boy, did I. Oh, man. Heavens.
It felt good. It really did. And it still does sometimes.
But it took some time for the gaping emptiness to clearly come into focus. There was no space for me to sit and type and process and patiently probe my own mind and heart. To do so was anathema to the short-format; a betrayal of the new medium. And so I again chose the path of disengagement.
I closed my Facebook account.
I logged off Twitter.
And this seemed to help. I was able to refocus on relationships and my own vibrant personal life without the counter-productive mindset that seemed to come hand-in-hand with my media feeds.
Reintegration with social media since then has been a halting affair filled with some personal failings but a lot of successful balancing. But I still long to patiently cultivate posts that engender thoughtful introspection. I still need to be myself - to find that vulnerable voice that engages the world not with sarcastic wit but with a softened heart.
And so here I am again. Blogging. I know I don’t want this to simply be an extension of my Facebook/Twitter pages but I also have no idea what else it could be…
What does rebirth look like?
This blog could be something I come back to regularly. Something that fits into the natural rhythm of my life. Something that garners steady readership. Or it could be more of a barely-read journal just for me. Or I could visit this space in 4 years and see this vulnerable, solitary post at the top.
All alone.
Waiting to be remembered and tried again.