Recently there have been things happening in my life that have brought up thoughts in my mind that kind of ... scared me.
First of all, a coworker "confessed" that in her spare time she draws about three to four paintings every two days, and a lot more on the weekends. I asked her if she ever thought of putting those works on the internet and she replied that she is afraid of the internet, afraid of letting people see her work because it is rather personal. Every drawing she creates is like a piece of herself, much like a diary.
Then, today I talked to another friend. He told me a story he came up with and I was speechless, I have heard a lot of stories in my life but this story really convinced me. I asked him if he ever considered putting the story into book form. And he replied, "Someday". I told him that he'd better start soon because I believe that every day something really terrible could happen to you and then your stories would die with you. And he said something I didn't expect. He replied that he didn't care about that. He further explained that even if he told the story somebody else, it would never be the same feeling that it represented for him. He could try to translate those feelings as good as possible, but in the end it would never be the same outcome as for himself, thus making it kind of irrelevant if he told it or not.
And this got me thinking. Why am I even here? Why am I putting my works on display on the internet? Are my works even personal?
I think I got a bit off track with my work recently. I reached for my inner self and found out that I'm restless, that something wants out, something that hasn't been taken care of in quite a while. Maybe I should write more diary entries. While this section of The Farm kind of turned into my personal blog, I think a blog is always somewhat of a role that the writer puts him/herself in. More or less even something to show off, because what other reason is there to tell somebody else that another entry has been made, and thus showing some kind of ... competitive productivity. This "blog" here as the majority would call it helps me a bit to get rid of things that I feel, but there are so many things that I can not tell through this medium. Things that I can't tell you. Maybe because I'm afraid that if you knew all about me you wouldn't return anymore.
On the other hand, why should I even bother getting out more personal stuff? Who actually cares anyway? I don't want to insult anybody, because I have found a lot of very good friends here, few of them actually read this, and I suppose they care, but still. When I talk to them in ICQ for example I'm a completely different person than what I am here. But with all the hundreds of different roles I play during the day, how do I know who I really am? If you look at yourself you're even different for each person you talk to.
What is the internet anyway? What do we do if one day it doesn't exist anymore? All those myspace pages, youtube videos, blogs, forums - gone. What physical evidence will there be left of our existence when the digital forms dissolve?
In twenty years the internet we know today probably won't exist anymore. Thus, all websites or blog posts you create today will sooner or later disappear. While something like a drawing, or a book has the potential of lasting a lot longer, and stay accessible not depending on the technologies of the current age. You could say the internet is a very provisional form. Just like a small breeze. It hits you, it may refresh you for a few seconds, and then it is gone.
What is left of you without the internet?