For those who know me, know my ego is pretty small. (I make up for it in height.) So, ever since I read the article "Cyberspace When You're Dead" last week, I've been thinking about why I maintain this infrequently-updated blog. I guess I should have been thinking about to whom I'm going to bequeath my online "property," who should know my user names and passwords, etc. when I'm not around to remember that I keep forgetting to blog. But that's really one of the very last things I'll spend time considering.
Nevertheless, I have a modest-sized digital record out there:
By one definition, starting a blog is an act of utter narcissism. Heck, how many times will I use the first-person pronoun in this post alone? But I don't think I did it for vainglory. (Although maybe I did it so I could use words like "vainglory" without consequence.) At one time, I did contribute to a blog -- or 'zine, semi-more accurately -- in no small part because I thought I wanted to write about music and try to get paid for it. But it mostly was a labor of love, in all senses of both words. Almost Famous it wasn't. And today, it seems this only gets updated when I want to write more about music.
Back in the days of letter-writing, my friends and I did a lot of that. Several commented that they said they could "hear" me in what I wrote, that I wrote just like I talked. I took it as a compliment though it's probably also why I never felt I could write fiction. Since all I seemed to know how to do was write like I talked, a book full of characters who all talked like me would be tiresome. (And full of parenthetical thoughts.) Later, I learned how to write scholarly papers but the idea of a book is both daunting and somewhat disinteresting. Though I do believe in the idea that everyone has one book in him/her. I think I know what mine would be and it would be non-fiction. No surprise.
So, no real answer to why maintain the blog. If I want to talk to my friends, I should just do that, no? And also, relatedly, no posthumous digital plans. I mean, if everyone says I write like I talk, once I'm no longer talking why worry about a digital preservation strategy? (see: no ego)
Nevertheless, I have a modest-sized digital record out there:
- I tweet.
- I've (finally) updated my Facebook profile to the "new profile layout."
- The professional me is out there, the substance of which became the guts of an "article" about my purchasing a house.
- I have accounts at a couple of the popular online photo-sharing sites.
- And this blog. And probably a few other things I'm forgetting.
By one definition, starting a blog is an act of utter narcissism. Heck, how many times will I use the first-person pronoun in this post alone? But I don't think I did it for vainglory. (Although maybe I did it so I could use words like "vainglory" without consequence.) At one time, I did contribute to a blog -- or 'zine, semi-more accurately -- in no small part because I thought I wanted to write about music and try to get paid for it. But it mostly was a labor of love, in all senses of both words. Almost Famous it wasn't. And today, it seems this only gets updated when I want to write more about music.
Back in the days of letter-writing, my friends and I did a lot of that. Several commented that they said they could "hear" me in what I wrote, that I wrote just like I talked. I took it as a compliment though it's probably also why I never felt I could write fiction. Since all I seemed to know how to do was write like I talked, a book full of characters who all talked like me would be tiresome. (And full of parenthetical thoughts.) Later, I learned how to write scholarly papers but the idea of a book is both daunting and somewhat disinteresting. Though I do believe in the idea that everyone has one book in him/her. I think I know what mine would be and it would be non-fiction. No surprise.
So, no real answer to why maintain the blog. If I want to talk to my friends, I should just do that, no? And also, relatedly, no posthumous digital plans. I mean, if everyone says I write like I talk, once I'm no longer talking why worry about a digital preservation strategy? (see: no ego)
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