My kids were a lot smaller then, I had fewer flecks of grey in my hair, less pronounced smile lines around my eyes, and a slightly shorter recovery time following a 60km spin on the bike. We still had a cat then, and our dog, Frasier, wasn't even a fleck in space, and wouldn't need rescuing for another few years. My wife is lovelier than ever.
Somewhat more sobering, folks who are gone now were still alive then, and on day 1 of this blog, I hadn't yet figured out how to get myself to the front of the line, fast, at the local ER. I often find myself reading entries from years ago, and as you can likely imagine, wandering back through the archives is something of an exercise in time travel. And like all forms of travel it has both its happy and sad moments. Just like life, come to think of it.
Which was the entire point when I first decided to put virtual pen to virtual paper. I'm a writer, so I write. And compared to the writing I do professionally, with its understandably imposed rules and voices, this is the one place where the rules and voices are entirely mine.
So if you're still wondering why I'm still at it 12 years later - long after emergent social media platforms like Facebook siphoned off most of the blogosphere's early audience and energy - it's because this remains the one space where I get to share pretty much anything I want. I wanted this to be my playground when I started it, and it pretty much still is. Sure, I'm active on Facebook (here), Twitter (here) and even Instagram (here), and the technologist in me is grateful that they came along when they did.
But this humble little blog remains something of a genteel, online version of home for me, the thing I can always pop into when I need a moment to reconnect - with myself and with others - through my words. It isn't the shiny new thing anymore, but that's hardly the point. So if you're OK with it, I'll keep at it for the forseeable future.
Because writing, like so many other forms of creative expression, is life to me. If I can't string words together, or otherwise share in bits, pixels or sound waves the strange things that bounce around inside my head, then this life thing suddenly becomes a lot less fun, and a lot less meaningful. I almost lost that gift once, and I remember at the time swearing to myself that I'd do everything I could to regain, then hold onto the seemingly inexplicable gift of being able to string words into coherent sentences. It may seem simple at first glance, but in the end, it's anything but. And infinitely precious.
Your turn: Do you still blog? Why are you still at it? Let us know where to find you.