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There's much talk lately from many corners of this small universe grown too large for comfort. It's talk of leaving, changing, posting from other places, feeding from other sites, watching from afar. Talk of distance and going away. Fresh beginnings. New starts. It is, after all, spring.
I'm not immune to the idea of picking up and leaving. There's the thrill of the unknown, the challenge of creating something--whether new and different or much the same--in a place that is unfamiliar. I have staked my claims as they have presented themselves. Vox. Oh, yes. I have an account, created it, and forgot about it. I can't seem to get motivated, in spite of the Team Vox! inspirational messages that come at me every time I visit the site! Team Vox! Fuck yeah! News & Politics! Health & Beauty! Team Vox! It kinda makes me feel like I'm in a Pokemon movie when I'm there. It's too busy, too much, too commercial and slick for me. There's too much going on, like being yelled at by a bunch of virtual carnies. I can't write much when I feel like punching people in the face.
Myspace. I won't even go there with the complete goddamn annoyance that place is to me. And then came Facebook. Facebook. I really thought about it. I did. But I just couldn't bring myself to take the plunge. I don't want to be found and I don't want to find. I don't care what my sixth grade boyfriend is doing now. I don't want every person I haven't cared to keep in touch with over the last 20 years picking my life apart. I know, I know...I can filter. I can control access. But I don't want to...it's exhausting to have to be vigilant about who sees me and who doesn't. I have a job where it matters, where not-so-nice people don't need to know any more about me than what they see. I filter here too, having more private conversations with people I've grown to know and trust. Maybe it's not so much that I don't have it in me again to be watchful, but more that I don't have it in me to be patient with the process of socializing.
Twitter? Even the name is irksome. It reminds me of the old Star Trek episode where they go to the planet where the people all sound like buzzing mosquitos. It's like texting. Another annoyance that I am glad to be too fucking old to indulge in...I know, I know...I sound like an old fart. I am. I am an old fart who actually still writes letters and uses paper. I don't e-vite, I don't spark, I don't instant message. I have tried them all and found them lacking in both substance and style. They are not my cup of tea and I bear no grudge to those of you who twitter, twatter, instant schmessage, what-ever-the-fuck-you-care-to-do. Have at it with my best wishes. I'll wave good tidings to you from the anachronistic shores that give me the illusion of solid ground under my own feet.
So now there's Dreamwidth...not quite open yet, but still accessible. I like it, mostly because it has that clunky, earnest feeling to it that LJ did when I joined almost a decade ago. The name is silly, but the place may have potential. It's too early to tell. And there's the decision of what to do with all this here...years of writing. I doubt that I'll pick up and move. I'll probably just stay here and write to an audience of Russian spambots for another few years. Honestly, the idea of my journal simply disappearing into the ether, unsaved, is almost comforting. I don't cling to my writing as much as I used to do. It is important to me in other ways, but I don't kid myself that it matters nearly as much as I once thought it did. I would miss some of you dearly, but I have been lucky. Most of the friendships cultivated here on LJ have transcended the medium and spilled over into other places and spaces, virtual and solid. Maybe some of you would even miss me. But we would all move along and get on to the next thing waiting for us...that's how it works. We all keep moving.
I want to stay, but that's always how it is. I have joined and left all sorts of virtual communities over the years. I change and move as it suits me, just like everyone. I don't know that I like it here anymore, even as I keep coming back to read and sometimes to write. There's more to me than what I have been doing here, but the creative energy that used to run through this place seems diminished now. Our words are lacking. My words. I stay because I have no better idea. I stay because I secretly hope for a renaissance. I stay because I would miss some of you too much to ever really say goodbye.
I'm not immune to the idea of picking up and leaving. There's the thrill of the unknown, the challenge of creating something--whether new and different or much the same--in a place that is unfamiliar. I have staked my claims as they have presented themselves. Vox. Oh, yes. I have an account, created it, and forgot about it. I can't seem to get motivated, in spite of the Team Vox! inspirational messages that come at me every time I visit the site! Team Vox! Fuck yeah! News & Politics! Health & Beauty! Team Vox! It kinda makes me feel like I'm in a Pokemon movie when I'm there. It's too busy, too much, too commercial and slick for me. There's too much going on, like being yelled at by a bunch of virtual carnies. I can't write much when I feel like punching people in the face.
Myspace. I won't even go there with the complete goddamn annoyance that place is to me. And then came Facebook. Facebook. I really thought about it. I did. But I just couldn't bring myself to take the plunge. I don't want to be found and I don't want to find. I don't care what my sixth grade boyfriend is doing now. I don't want every person I haven't cared to keep in touch with over the last 20 years picking my life apart. I know, I know...I can filter. I can control access. But I don't want to...it's exhausting to have to be vigilant about who sees me and who doesn't. I have a job where it matters, where not-so-nice people don't need to know any more about me than what they see. I filter here too, having more private conversations with people I've grown to know and trust. Maybe it's not so much that I don't have it in me again to be watchful, but more that I don't have it in me to be patient with the process of socializing.
Twitter? Even the name is irksome. It reminds me of the old Star Trek episode where they go to the planet where the people all sound like buzzing mosquitos. It's like texting. Another annoyance that I am glad to be too fucking old to indulge in...I know, I know...I sound like an old fart. I am. I am an old fart who actually still writes letters and uses paper. I don't e-vite, I don't spark, I don't instant message. I have tried them all and found them lacking in both substance and style. They are not my cup of tea and I bear no grudge to those of you who twitter, twatter, instant schmessage, what-ever-the-fuck-you-care-to-do. Have at it with my best wishes. I'll wave good tidings to you from the anachronistic shores that give me the illusion of solid ground under my own feet.
So now there's Dreamwidth...not quite open yet, but still accessible. I like it, mostly because it has that clunky, earnest feeling to it that LJ did when I joined almost a decade ago. The name is silly, but the place may have potential. It's too early to tell. And there's the decision of what to do with all this here...years of writing. I doubt that I'll pick up and move. I'll probably just stay here and write to an audience of Russian spambots for another few years. Honestly, the idea of my journal simply disappearing into the ether, unsaved, is almost comforting. I don't cling to my writing as much as I used to do. It is important to me in other ways, but I don't kid myself that it matters nearly as much as I once thought it did. I would miss some of you dearly, but I have been lucky. Most of the friendships cultivated here on LJ have transcended the medium and spilled over into other places and spaces, virtual and solid. Maybe some of you would even miss me. But we would all move along and get on to the next thing waiting for us...that's how it works. We all keep moving.
I want to stay, but that's always how it is. I have joined and left all sorts of virtual communities over the years. I change and move as it suits me, just like everyone. I don't know that I like it here anymore, even as I keep coming back to read and sometimes to write. There's more to me than what I have been doing here, but the creative energy that used to run through this place seems diminished now. Our words are lacking. My words. I stay because I have no better idea. I stay because I secretly hope for a renaissance. I stay because I would miss some of you too much to ever really say goodbye.