Do you feel nostalgic when you sit down to post something to your blog? I'm starting to. I'm remembering the hey-day, for me anyway, when there was a certain vibrancy to it. But now, it feels like thumbing through the card catalog: It feels like a task, an obstacle to getting to information and feedback. Especially after Facebook came into my life.
I've thought about not blogging. Didn't work. I tried to set goals for myself so that I would write/comment more often. I began to feel that, even though I don't have cable and I still don't have time to catch up with my catalog of favorite shows, how the hell can I blog?
Maybe now's not the time in my life. When I'm at work...I'm working. When I'm at home, I'm with the kids. When the kids are in bed, I'm on Facebook or listening to the DVD commentaries for the Simpsons or Futurama...or, if I'm lucky, a new Father Ted from Netflix (thank you Dr. Monkey Muck for showing us the light!).
I just don't have the opportunity...since shiny Facebook came along. What's better than "Liking" something there? It shows I stopped by and that I care. Because of it and it's simplicity, I'm closer to far-flung relatives, both physically far flung and genealogically far flung, than I've ever been in my life. I'm playing D&D (thanks Frank Sirmarco!), I'm farming, I have a fishtank, I have an appartment! I'm catching up with people I knew and barely knew in high school. I know my co-workers better and like them for it.
It's bizzare and intoxicating. It's Hi-fi, digital, THX communication.
It's somehow lacks the authenticity. The groove has been melded into a sleek metallic grapevine. While useful and somehow easier to deal with, it can't compare to the comfort and ease I get while sliding your blog off the shelf and cranking up the Victorola to revisit your latest post, which is two weeks old. There's something in the quality there...
So, I think I'm going to do what my Dad would do. I'm keeping my collection and I'm still adding to this old blog. I'm going to stop by and visit, even if I have nothing to say. Because if I got rid of them, I'd lose the original record...it would be like tossing the old 78 that captured my Grandpa's performance (in drag, mind you) of his interpretation of Mae West singing.
Come up and see me some time, sailor. Landerhaven Ho!