Serenity… an expedition

A few things came together for me, in my mind, at roughly the same time.

I turned 50 last year.

I had a dreadful year last year.

I joined Twitter.

I realized that, of all the sites I’ve made or been a part of, not one has been just for me. A personal site, with my own thoughts, dreams, aspirations or kevetches.

This is not to say that I’ve not expressed some of those things other places – at Human Beams or someplace else, it’s just that I’ve never felt really comfortable doing so. It’s possibly all in my mind but I’ve just felt limited on what I consider professional sites. Still, it just never occurred to me to start a personal site of my own.

Well wait – I lie.  The original Stalking Sunlight – on blogspot, in 2003, where I wrote a total of 5 posts before moving it over to Human Beams, or thereabouts. I wonder why? In my first post I was saying the same things as now:

And this surely is a new thing for me… a completely self-absorbed journal of thoughts and views, which is also open to the world to see. This should be interesting… to me, at least. I don’t expect anyone else to really care. I guess that is the entire point of random anonymity… exploring who you are, what causes you to be… in full view of people who could care less. Sort of like standing in Times Square, NYC, and yelling that the world is ending while eddys of people pass around you, oblivious, pursuing their own lives and not giving a hoot about yours. I wonder if that is actually the true liberation of thought and spirit.

It’s possible that this experiment is already not turning out as planned if I am at the beginning comparing myself to street ranters, and they are coming out on the topside.

So, here I am again, then.  Things changed when I brought the blog under Human Beams – it was no longer about exploring my own writing or thoughts, so much as (somewhat) writing for a purpose for and about others.  Even my writing style changed (might be a good thing) – less reflective, less visual, more … something. Bloggish, maybe. Certainly more constrained, as there I am representing something. Here, I represent nothing but myself, and can write bad fiction, if I want; long, rambling essays; explore thoughts about activism, writing, gossip about other people – or just whine a lot about life in general.

Anyway, trying again – whatever this turns out to be.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 17th, 2009 at 8:55 pm and is filed under Twitter, bellybutton bedazzlement, life, pleasing things. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.