…Wherein the Blogger Blogs about His Blog
// November 3rd, 2006 // No Comments » // Personal
Thanks to the inspiration of a long-time and highly-productive friend, I’m returning to daily blogging. It’s really nothing more than a simple matter of priorities. In the past, it simply wasn’t worth investing the time to pump out random blatherings that no one would likely read except for me.
With a new mindset, I’m back for three useful reasons: 1) it will force me to fully flesh out new thoughts and ideas on a daily basis, 2) it will keep me writing, and 3) I welcome the inherent catharsis of putting pen to paper, fingers to keys, pixels to screen.
As I was driving to a client site today, I began to think about some of the practical realities of blogging. Do I use my public persona or go incognito? In some sense, I’m intrinsically a private person, so most of my online writings tend to have an anonymous quality to them. In many ways, I’ve compartmentalized public and private. In other ways, not so much.
I suppose a more salient question would be, “does it make a difference?” And I don’t mean that in an apathetic manner. I’m referring to this whole “web of connectedness.” Someday, Google HAL (still in beta) will know every single thing about everyone based on the ethereal connections between websites, like some massively global game of sudoku. Post a comment about the OSU Buckeyes on your stamp-collecting friend’s MySpace page and instantly it’s linked with that metal detector you bought on eBay last year. Now Google knows that you’re that guy who made the Usenet posting back in 1992 about an old pine-tree penny you found in the Maumee River, happily reporting your find to the State Archeology Bureau. Yes, yes, data mining is our friend. Now go back to sleep.
Joking aside, I really believe that one day, our net trails will be scattered all over places like Google’s cache, the Internet Wayback Machine, and the insidious Carnivore (your file soon available as a FOIA request!) for future historians and curious genealogically-oriented progeny to see what we did in our spare time. Now that should give you pause next time you visit YouTube to watch Weird Al videos (the latest of which hits a little too close to home).
But all of this raises interesting questions about the social implications of context.
- Am I going to say anything that I wouldn’t want traced back to me? Yep.
- My online friends almost certainly see me differently than the people I know offline. The context of our internet experience puts us in interesting social boxes in which others will recognize us instantly, but we may be only dimly aware of this ourselves. It makes for an interesting disconnect between two realities… like seeing your priest in a speedo at the YMCA. Some people know the swimmer, some people know the holy man. When the two collide, someone goes blind.
- Will my musings be fodder to exclude me from some important societal role in the future? Think jobs, public office, lovely young lassies, etc.
- Am I revealing myself to potential stalkers/crazy people? (And yes, I have experienced it before. Do you know what it’s like to have to leave your instant messenger in invisible mode for two years?)
Am I really all that anonymous on the internet? Not really. Google will point to my many photography books, small-scale railroading books, my recent work as a grad student at the University of Arizona, and my past work as a pastor of a church. Oh wait. Those are my nom de doppelgangers. (And with just that bit of information, Google HAL will one day be able to spit out my real name.)
I’m evaluating two different builds of WordPress (standard and MU). Once I’ve settled on one, here’s what you should expect in the next few weeks: A new design for my blog (actually, I should say, a design for my blog). RSS. Tags. Photos. Cool stuff.
What you won’t see: my very most favoritest song playing all midi-style, volume 10 the moment you arrive here. Pictures of Pomeranians. Animated images.
The real challenge? Keeping it interesting. But more importantly, if I write, will they come? I don’t really think so, but that’s not the point. It’s a private journal, left daily on a bus stop bench for passers-by to peruse if they care to.



