Isn’t it strange how blogs grow, if you look back on here in the archives, or indeed on any site, the initial posts tend to be short sharp lists of links, or factual accounts of what we did, and where we were… so when, and more importantly what happens to turn the early blogger into a rambling blogging star, someone that consistently posts 2 or 3 posts a day, someone not afraid to just let go and bitch, celebrate, whinge, laugh and cry on there site: that’s not to say as bloggers mature you find out more about them, in fact I think it’s actually the complete reverse of that, I believe that as you become a more regular, rambling blogger your posts become more introspective, more thought about, and more heavily edited, not always consciously.
There seems to be a point when you realise that not everything you once would have blogged is something you now want on your blog, this little collection of ramblings is testament to that, there are things I discussed a year ago I wouldn’t even consider talking about now, however now I produce 10 times the amount of content that I did a year ago. It has to be said that blogging re-ignited my love of writing, it’s something I’d forgotten about, you write all the time in the industry I’m in, you’re surrounded by words, but they’re all words with a task, whereas here the words can mean everything or nothing.
You see here this is my space, it’s like a little extension of my head, where I can hive off threads of thought, mull them over in writing, archive them for future use, or just stick them on the Internet for the sake of sticking them on the Internet. It’s only here because I want it to be, it’s not an e-zine, it’s not a magazine, it’s definitely not commercial, I’m not driven to write things here because I have to, I don’t write things here because I want to please my “audience” (However if you enjoy reading it then that’s great) It’s simply because I want to write. The funny thing is when I read back over the years (not all of which are currently published) you can spot phases, having never kept a “diary” of the written sort being able to mull over my past as seen by me but not simply relying on my own memory is a fascinating experience.