Nearly one year ago, I was living in New York, living in a shit apartment and having a shit time at work. I was a writer, working at a magazine, but doing almost no writing. Work bored me and my personal life left much to be desired, so I did what most twentysomethings do these days; I started a blog, this one, to be exact.
There's an interesting NYT Magazine article by former Gawker editor Emily Gould out today, about her rise and fall and redemption - all played out on the numerous blogs she's been associated with in the last couple of years. She offers an interesting hypothesis as to why so many kids are willing to offer up their personal lives for public scrutiny via the web. It's because we want some sort of record of our existence, proof that we really were here, doing something faintly worthwhile. I mean, if I just wanted to write, I could have kept a journal. And I've never kept a journal.
Maybe it's the journalist in me, but I love listening to a good song, or reading a good book, and telling people about it. I love seeing something interesting in the news and dissecting it. I like the semi-anonymity, but I also like getting feedback from commenters about how a life experience I've blogged about has connected to them in some way.
So to anyone who is reading, thanks for stopping by, thanks for perusing my record.