do i even exist without an online space?
blog, blog, blog. it’s 2022 and i still hate the word “blog.”
have a terrible day at work, cry when you get home, try 3½ blogging/microblogging services, 4/4 which seem to be made by men, possibly 4/4 made by white men…
…hate-read tweets and articles on (slash against) NFTs until 3am…
sounds like a great day
…revisit WriteFreely.org by the end of the night.
oh my, it seems that most of what i write about is meta, and techie, and therefore, gross.
or not. i don’t know?
do i even exist without a blog?
i don’t know. i don’t really feel like i do. now that i’m actually committing to starting one again, i feel more relaxed. like i can put something on the internet again, and shape what i write.
but i worry. i worry my posts won’t be Perfect. they’ll be boring and not always perfectly curated.
writing, photography. all those things i did when i was in love with… someone i don’t even remember right now.
well, i’m an avid writer when i want to be. that’s not even true. i’m worried. i’m worried that i’m not saying the right words, the “perfect” words. oh no, oh no, oh no
so much meta
real meta
i think i need to make multiple spaces, make at least two spaces, one for “articles”, maybe another for “poetry”, and this...
if it's not an organized article, it's trash. if it's unfiltered thoughts and feelings and journalling, it's trash. if it's not meant to be useful to someone else, it's trash.
if it's not an organized article whether from the perspective of “inspire others!” or about racism, et al
if it's not useful it's trash.
so every other blog i've had has ended up in the incinerator because They Weren't Good Enough.
trash.
it's 4:43am.
i'll
i'm starting to realize that i've just been... well, i don't want to say “too” angry.
Gh*st is fine as a CMS. i guess
see? this piece is not ONLY, this post is not ONLY, stream of consciousness, but it's a bunch of stream of consciousness about META, and TECH.
that's not true. it's clearly about feelings.
i feel exposed, and raw, but this is the only way i can function. for six years, because of something that happened in the latter half of my 25th year, i have been too scared to say anything, way too scared to even be myself: vibrant, etc.
i do think seattle is beautiful. but when i lived there, i never, ever had a close enough friend to truly explore it.
i'm going to end this, i think this post is trash bc it's not perfectly written, or something...
i don't know
people tweet their feelings instagram only has huge declarations of “vulnerability” tweet tweet
tumblr tumblr for sure i sound like a 13yo and that's okay.