I’m going to try to blog at least once a day to keep my mind from going like a 70 year old doing their Sudoku after an unsatisfying lunch. It feels like I woke up from a coma or walked away from serving 15 years in solitary confinement. I don’t know what happen–know exactly what happened but I don’t feel comfortable writing about it yet. Is that bad?
Writing in a LiveJournal or my ghetto geocities page 17 years ago had a sense of anonymity. The internet was this secret thing that didn’t matter to anyone except us dregs of sorrow. Now you are weird if you aren’t connected to the web at all times with a smartphone radiating your tender parts. When did people stop caring about the people who actually care about them and start chasing likes, views, and favorites from strangers and spambots?
What made me once feel ahead of the times is no longer my secret something. This private world which I would once run away to is now closely monitored by potential employers, government agencies, and friends you sometimes need a break from. What happened? Did I grow old and the world passed me by? Am I going to be bitter with the rest of my generation who didn’t cash in on creating insidiously monetized social networks, boring business app middleware, and manipulative free-to-play mobile games? Oh the dreamer that never woke up in time for class, didn’t chase a lucrative career, and stopped bothering to keep up with his peers. Where did you go? Fishing I guess.