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Bloggy Blog #1

...with you, bloggy blog, is just getting too overwhelming for me. I can't take the trouble you've been putting me through for years and years. Make one, delete it. Make another, delete it. Over and over again I beat a dead horse in trying to keep this love alive. Over and over again, you disappoint me.

We go all the way back to Myspace, that bastion of glitter pics and ever-critical top eight friend lists. I tried to blog there. It's such a silly word. Bluh-ogg. Kind of like blah. Something that comes from the gut. Vomit. Puke. BLARGH. It all comes out in the wash. Useless words on computer screens and now cell phone screens to placate all our free time. You sit there and antagonize me so. Why? Why would you do that to me? I thought I could trust you. Throw my thoughts at you. Dreams, visions, complaints. You were my easel. My canvas.

What went wrong?

Let's start from the beginning. Not Myspace, but back much further than that. Let's go back to the dawn of the internet - according to my usage of it, anyway. 1993. Jesus tapdancing Christ, what a long time ago! I was stuck with something similar to this beauty -


Sure, it wasn't too internetty, but it made me feel all sorts of powerful. Lots of book reports run off dot matrix printers and stored on 8" floppy disks. Good times. Buried deep in a landfill somewhere right now sits one of those floppies that I carelessly abandoned once the 3.5" versions came into vogue. On this disk sat a few choice words that I can't recite verbatim, but definitely never graced any school book report. It was the start of something big. Big, I tell ya. Probably just me complaining about my family, but it was the blog before blogs. And it was awesome. I think. 

Shortly thereafter, I started capturing my thoughts of rage and lust via stupid journals. They were stupid because they were filled with stupid. Love, hate, more hate, extreme hate for lost loves, hating love, hating thoughts of hating love - just a pathetic smorgasbord of pure teenage muck. My first paper journal I decided to just casually discard by tossing it into a lake at the local park. I had grown flustered by recent events in my life, and figured everything up to that point was just a waste trying to lament over such - so, into the lake my memories went. For a while I secretly hoped someone would come across those drenched pages of angst. 

Future journals were not carelessly tossed aside into the shallow depths of filthy green water. They were maintained in the dry confines of bookshelves, and on some occasions, backpacks. Or just on the floor, in those living spaces where I just didn't give a crap. These journals were similar to the angry teenage journal, only less about relationships and more about my family. I know, writing about those you hang around with the most - very shocking concept. But that's precisely what they were - pages and pages of nonsense and complaining about people who cared about me. Or did care, up until a certain point. 

In the early 2000's, I was lured to the world of online writing. I took to it almost feverishly, posting on just about any topic that came to mind. I maintained this blog/journal thing for over a good half a decade, mostly to keep in touch with former students who I lived with at a boarding school, most of whom were frequent connoisseurs of this specific site. Couple this with the Myspace craze, and by the mid 2000's I was blogging things like a madman. 

But then one day, I stopped.

 I stopped and deleted a profile here, a profile there. Made others. Deleted those as well, made some more. Kept writing. Kept deleting. Over and over again. I went through profile after profile and blog after blog and kept absolutely nothing. I had no rational explanation for any of this. Every blog or profile got recycled into something I thought was going to be greater than the prior, and it never really became that. 

And that brings me here. Again. 

Again I am here trying to recreate something that may very well get taken down. And I will be okay with that. Will you, internet? Will you be okay with that? Probably. People have done worse things on here. But why do I keep doing it? What am I afraid of? It's just a blog. In the world. One in the world of millions. A stupid bloggy blogface.


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