<Insert opening paragraph about how, especially when I find a moment of stillness, I always come back to writing>
Every couple years, I get a strange itch to see if this blog is still alive. The practical side of me knows I probably ought to download all my old blog post, spread thin over the past decade, because surely one day it will be gone. Do people even blog anymore? Isn't it all twitter and insta and tiktok (whatever that is) these days?
And yet. There's something special about still having this place here. As long as I can still log in, still type in the address without a "URL not found," I have a place I can write. Sure, maybe I'll someday (definitely?) lose a couple hundred old post when blogger finally dies. Does it matter? What sparks more joy, a bunch of random archived files or a place I can write when inspiration strikes?
I know. A mostly-anonymous-but-still-public blog is not the best avenue for this sort of writing. I should start a Word doc, or a Google doc, or find some fancy cloud-based journaling software. Or, I dunno, a notebook. But I've tried those*, and they don't work. This blog is the writing equivalent to working from a coffee shop**--semi-anonymous, but not alone. In theory recognizable, but in practice just another layer of background noise.
I like it.
*Okay, so I haven't actually tried those, but I've thought about trying those, and immediately didn't like it, which is arguably even worse.
**Metaphorically, of course. Because pandemic.
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