Until recently, I had never heard of weblogs. Then I realized that lots of web developers at work were keeping them. And then I read some of them (especially one) and realized that I wanted one.
I am old school, I still write in a paper journal. I like the kinetic feedback from the touch of my fountain pen's gold nib on wood pulp. But a weblog is more convenient for keeping distant friends (some of who may live near) updated on my life. It is easier to fire off random thoughts during the day to a weblog than it is to scrawl them on random scraps of paper that will just end up as paper pills in the pockets of my jeans after they emerge from the drying machine.
I wonder what I will write in my weblog. Strange that I do now know. I suppose it is because it will be somewhere between my private and public personas, and whether it will be closer to one or the other I do not know.
I feel like I am on the high diving board at a public pool. And as I walk to the edge of the board, everyone down below stops to watch me. The cool breeze sends a chill through my damp, once sun-warmed skin. I can't turn back now because the pool down below, she has been swallowing and disgorging people all day and now it is my turn. So it's 3 steps (right left right) and then two feet together for a short hop, down into the board, and then I am thrown up and out and then down into the water. Once I'm in the water, I realize I am alone in the pool.
Once there are people there, will I still dive the same? No one is reading my weblog.
Yet.