Hello from the Hinterlands.
January 26,2022
Here is an excerpt from my analog journal dated two days ago:
I was going through some old Dear Diary entries trying to find the sequence of the Rubber Duckie stories and just as I was making progress, the server went down. It felt like a little betrayal and a chastisement at the same time. I haven't written since October for the reasons stated in my last entry, and as soon as I look into the archives, the interface seizes up. Serves me right. But I have to admit, I miss it.
Even though it feels like in many ways traditional blogging is .... over. We are too exhausted to read someone else's navel gazing soliloquies all day. AND I noticed that compared to the 'old days', the collective consciousness that I used to write to has been shattered to bits by the psychic meat grinder we have all been through the last two years. There is so much fragmentation and so many voices, that I think we have had to tune out from the blare. And on some levels [correct me if I am wrong] we seem to have tuned out from our own selves somewhat in a desperate attempt to save what's left of our sanity.
Oddly enough, it occurs to me that returning to blogging might be one way to counteract the overstimulation. It's slower. It might even seem tedious. Though I'm hoping [even for my own sake] that it is less taxing to the nervous system.
The impulse to share has not gone away, but the current mediums like Instagram, Tik Tok, and Twitter [which I never got much into] are so overloaded that you can smell the hot digital metal starting to warp and smoke, causing my monkey brain to squeal... Danger! Danger! I stepped away from Tik Tok altogether the other day and haven't returned because I suddenly felt like the people on there aren't real humans. Scared me a little bit.
And here we come to another issue. All that digital material could be erased in one fell swoop by any number of electronic disasters. Just as paper and books can be lost in fire. Nothing is 'safe' - not really. Perhaps that is why I write so much. The number of my various current working journals has only increased, no matter how much I try to consolidate. I have this delusion that by sheer volume, I'll get something to 'stick' in the collective consciousness. I write, but who will read?
Maybe only me, when all is said and done.
So there's some navel gazing for you.
Anyway, I am hoping to take up the reins of this blog, and write in the slow lane. As slow as a horse and buggy. I'm also toying around with the idea of re-posting the Bogwillow stories for those of you who may have never read them. I ran across them while doing a major tidy up of my computer files last month and enjoyed them all over again myself. They had nothing to do with 'reality' whatsoever. And as a matter of fact were written when I barely had a grasp on my sanity during the most trying years of peri-menopause.
It's a thought anyway. But in the meantime, I have a project to share of a more earthy nature which I hope to post tomorrow. And we will see where this leads us. I hope you would like to come along. It's so much more fun to travel in company. :-)
Addendum August 19 2024:
After re-reading this entry, I started to wonder... perhaps the people that are attracted to Dear Diary are of a certain type. More literary. More introspective. Thoughtful, and not so much provocative. And the community that forms here, does so because it recognizes kindred souls and tends to form bonds that in the digital age seem quite unlikely. I can't put my finger on it. But I know I'm grateful for this quiet corner of the internet. It's gentle enough for even the most timid among us to find a welcoming seat at the table. I am grateful that some of us have been reunited and I'm looking forward to finding new friends. Perhaps not in large numbers, but certainly in depth of connection.
We need this now. After all we have been through.
