Writing a blog today feels kind of silly. It’s engaging in a medium I think most people feel is archaic and obsolete. Actually, this is pretty in character for me; I listen to dusty records, play Sega Saturn games from 1996, and shuffle through the 50 cent boxes at comic shops. I spend a lot of time reading about 19th century philosophers. Call me a hipster. Fine. Whatever. That’s fair, I guess. Honestly, though, even that term is just residue from a recent bygone era at this point.
But I digress.
I’m looking at this as a kind of journal-keeping endeavor, but I’ll admit I’ve never been great at keeping up with journals and diaries. Something about writing to myself feels absurd and embarrassing, but a blog is something different. It’s public. There are (very low) stakes. Someone might read it and have an opinion about my opinions. Kind of vulnerable, kind of thrilling and fun. It might be the dopamine shot I need to keep up with it. An excuse to free write that doesn’t just get lost in one of my external hard drives floating in a box in my messy, disorganized closet.
Is it self-indulgent? Yes. Yes it is. But it’s not without its purpose and benefits. Unlike the public’s favorite form of public self-expression (which is also quite old at this point) blogs are not limited by a character cap or the need to be accompanied by images and video. It’s just words in long-form. Free-form. Prose slightly edited from my brain for you to read. Or don’t. That’s cool too.
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