This blog serves different purposes. Sometimes it is the mental equivalent of stretching my legs. I have a notion that tickles at my mind and so I walk it around the block, with the results showing up here. Sometimes this is an expression of my curiosity. Sometimes it is a vehicle for nostalgia. I recall something, something I see goes ring-a-ding-ding in that part of my brain where my memories are held and out come the myriad associations. That’s true enough too: the blog as a kind of written Rorschach blot. And of course there are times I just spew up what is in my head, the rants and raves and exploratory chunks of stream of consciousness. Blogging as therapy. All true.
I have a life outside of these virtual pages though. Sometimes it gets touched upon here, either directly, or obliquely. Even when I’m expounding something current and pressing in my life though the full picture is hidden. There are things happening elsewhere. Even when I rant there are peaceful places in my mind. Even when I’m being most descriptive it’s like describing but the corner of a grand canvas, albeit in minute detail. Elsewhere Napoleon rides into view, soldiers lay dying, smoke billows in the air from cannon, and rival cavalry clashes. My life as a battlefield portrait.
The things I don’t say. Mostly small things. Sometimes bigger things. Sometimes very big things I deign not to share with the unwashed world wide web. Women I see and do. Work I carry out. People I meet. Restaurants, bars, dinner parties where I make an appearance. Mostly I leave them out because they are the same, interesting enough in themselves, but little different from hundreds of times previous.
This last week. I went to a friends for dinner Sunday night. We had roast chicken and ended up watching Rockwiz. Friday a friend came over late afternoon and we drank a couple of bottles of wine sitting in the back courtyard. Last Thursday I met with a guy from an Indian software development company who wants to partner with me. We had coffee at Southbank while the sun beat down. Same day I went into the old office and caught up with my old colleagues, on a whim, feeling handsome and bright and glad to be gone from there. Otherwise day by day I’m coordinating projects, dealing with suppliers and needy clients. And so on. Another week, reasonably typical.
What prompts this? Well I was reading another blog, a business based blog focusing on design. It was fascinating to me. It was a fascinating subject approached with real insight and imagination, and written with real craft. (http://informationarchitects.net/blog/). I read all the time, more than I want to sometimes. I read because I enjoy it, but there’s a part of me that goes further because of what I do. I need to know what’s going on, and I enjoy the sparks reading different ideas and opinions produce in me. I’m not a big blog reader, but occasionally I do.
Who knows this about me? Few, I suspect. Does it matter? Not at all. Yet as I was reading the blog today, and feeling myself carried away by the concepts that were being expounded, I wondered how many even of my closest friends would know this of me? And who reading the blog?
What gets written here are the things I choose to write. They cover quite a range, but still, I think, within a narrow band. These are the things in my head, those bits I’ve tuned into, the white noise to either side disregarded. This blog serves as an outlet for me, but as a representation of who I am and how I live, leaves a lot out. I am my words here, but they are only a part of the whole that I am. I guess everyone is that, public stuff, inadvertent stuff, minor mysteries, occasional passions, frequent banalities, and so on. It’s something I need remember myself, mind the gaps between.