Now that I’m a wizened blogger of a year old, I find myself indulging in sentimentality most acceptable in the elderly.
I ponder the mortality of blogs: do you know what is the longevity of the average blog? Do you know how many blogs are effectively stillborns — created but has not a single post? Do you know how many blogs — even when having breathed of life in the form of initial posts — die within the first month, 3 months, 6 months, a year? Does the mortality of blogs resemble that of people? Do blogs see the greatest abandonment in the fragility of their infancy but conditional on surviving this treacherous period, generally thrive to an advance age? WordPress surely keeps statistics on all of these things, but I don’t think they share the answers with us bloggers. Do you think that’s because WordPress judges the stats to be too depressing?
I revisit my published blog posts — both because of nostalgia and to fight senility. I dream of ways to breath the energy of youth into these older posts — to make them read by visitors who come today to my blog. I update the old posts with my own comments (see here, here, and here for just a few examples). I suppose this is blogosphere equivalent of talking to myself, I guess. (Actually, I do that off blog too. Audibly.)
Like (all?) bloggers of some age, I worry about repeating myself. I worry about repeating myself. I think about what the blog has accomplished and am anxious for it to show some progress, some signals of progress in my own thinking, habits, and personal worth (ha!).
I am very silly.