...I wish the blog world wasn't dead.
I often catch myself reminiscing too much. I used to think it was a problem, until I read a NY Times article on the positives of nostalgia. I convinced myself that I was not using it as a primary coping mechanism to deal with the lack of God in my life, but rather, I was using it precisely as they say is the only form of it being "good for you." I'm not obsessive (am I?). I just have a prolific collection of my life's documentation-- what good is it to just let it sit in the void of the interwebz?
I learned I can recreate the emotion I felt at that very moment, because I try to find the best words to describe the current state in which I'm writing. So I will read, and I will feel again. It's as if I'm reliving it. Simulated PTSD. But I guess it's not all traumatic. Some of it-- a lot of it-- is euphoric. Although, I think I'm a bit of a masochist: I like re-experiencing the pain.
So, nostalgia is what leads me to wishful thinking about our everyday folks going back into blogging. I totally get that writing isn't for everyone, but I loved that for a moment in time, people gave it a shot despite their discomfort in their writing skills or susceptibility to public scrutiny, mostly due to peer pressure. Isn't that what we continue to do in social media anyway, just in much simpler, less cognitive methods?
Because I'm not on social media, I get an itching-- a craving, if you will-- for private social gazing. Admittedly, it's fun to sometimes see what others are up to (just in a very infrequent doses). Rather than go back onto Facebook or Instagram, I will wish for someone who likes to write out their thoughts, which is so hard to find these days. It's much more interesting to know what someone's thinking, not what they're doing or where they are or what they're buying.
I was recently inspired by this wtf-is-going-on Frank quote in his recent i-D appearance.
