I’ve become a little sceptical of the net in the past few weeks, and unsure about my place in it. Why? Because there have been times when I’ve been too close to writing some very revealing posts, only managing to stop, pull myself together and see sense at the last moment. But this has led me to frequently curse the day I decided to attach my full name to this website. Stupid, but the web seemed much smaller back then, and blogging seemed like an endearingly fragile structure held together by nothing more than glue, bits of stickytape, and a hope that it wouldn’t just topple over.
So I’ve been engaging in those same old internal dialogues that I’m well aware many other navel-gazing bloggers have indulged in. Should I start afresh with a new website? Have a ‘secret’ web presence on Blogspot or LiveJournal, where I can purge without worry? Just decide not to write anything, anywhere? Or throw caution to the wind and post what I want to post, and hang the consequences?
Far too many questions there. So instead of trying to answer any of them or come to a momentous decision, I chose to escape. And that escape was called email.
I’ve been emailing people: new correspondents, as well as people I haven’t contacted in this way in ages. Long back and forth conversations. Yes, I suppose we could have chatted to each other over IM, but I rather liked having the time to think about what I was saying, yet send those words instantly once I’d typed them. It took me back to a rather more naive time before I put my thoughts online. It was comforting.
There’s no great conclusion to this entry, and certainly no important decision to announce. I just wanted to say that if a severe case of blog neglect should suddenly take hold (probably unlikely now that I’ve gone to the effort of forewarning you), then email is most likely to be the reason — although apathy will no doubt be close by in second place.