The first output text of every computer programmer marks my entrance into the digital realm. I’ve been accustomed to keeping written journals to-date, but a written journal isn’t always convenient and I type a bit faster than I can write. OK, who am I kidding. Typing is easier than writing, and I’m lazy. Although when I think on it further I realize that writing in a paper journal was easy compared to figuring out how to set up this blog!
Sitting here with a digital journal open in front of me is an interesting experience. When I was in college I entertained the idea of getting a tattoo, but ultimately didn’t because I couldn’t figure out what I’d like stained onto my skin for the rest of my life. The permanence was paralyzing. Similarly, this environment feels a bit paralyzing – what do I want to write about that is so permanent as to be published on the internet until the EMP hits? I think part of the purpose of this is to serve as a way of clearing out my mind. To that end, whether or not anybody else reads this is irrelevant and therefore perhaps the permanence shouldn’t matter. On the other hand, what exists in my mind to be cleared out may not represent who I am as a person ten years from now. If it still exists online ten years from now, and even if nobody else ever reads it, does it still represent me? Does it mean I am still “that”?
Regardless, this serves as a dumping ground for all of the things that give me anxiety and high blood pressure, the things that make me reflect, and the things that move my heart. The web environment will make it easier to do this wherever I am (or at least that’s what they tell me), so it marks a transition for me from analog to digital. I promise nothing regarding coherence of my writing or consistency in my thought. But I do promise to try not to be guarded. Promises made to the “me” that comes back and reads this ten years from now.
Or, at least, the “me” that exists when the EMP hits.