My blogging was for a long while what the majority of blogs floating in the abyss of the world wide web seem to be: something intended for the few readers to whom I had given out the url. (Read: family + 1 or 2 friends.) After finishing school and moving back to the states, my connections with many of these people have been rekindled and I've felt less of a need to note down every little adventure for their online enjoyment. Sometime in the past year or so as well, I linked my blog to my Facebook account and slowly, I am noticing my audience of readers is growing and becoming somewhat less focused. While I was abroad, this certainly affected my posting, but not nearly to the extent which my posting has most recently, well, halted.
Back in December the content of my posts began to be subjected to more thought and less of the brain-dump "what I did this week" style they had adopted over the years. This has meant a lot more introspection, reflections, and of course, content I wouldn't necessarily deem "Facebook ready". I am reading many more blogs these days and find myself censoring what I do or do not publish based on the content I find myself disappointed by or excited about reading from by others.
This is where my conflict arises: I began my blog for the very purpose of keeping people in the loop about the goings-on in my life. Both those whom I am in better touch with and those I haven't seen in over a decade. This new self imposed censorship has been a bit of a double edged sword. Writing a post now bears with it a certain sense of excitement anticipation coupled with expectations that what I write be read-worthy and I find myself drawn to write while shirking from the task at hand.
That said, it has been far too long.
My best friend from high school came out in January for a visit and we ran around the city doing as much as we could cram into a short period of time. I had a blast and realized how very much I was missing having girlfriends in Seattle. (At this moment, the only girl I regularly see is my roommate and she and I are not even that close.) I am really enjoying time here in Seattle. I think the city has a lot to offer, there are extensive day and weekend trips to be made and people to meet. (I've met some great ones so far.) But I couldn't help missing what motivated me to move back to the states and to Chicago. Good friends. People who know me enough to tell me when I'm being and idiot and those I am not afraid to offend when I tell them the same.
I've known Erica for well over a decade now. I remember going to her 16th birthday party and watching the Beatles movie, Help! in her grandparents condominium in downtown Minneapolis. We went to Hawai'i together when we were 18, managed visits to our respective colleges, I even made it down to Chicago for a disappointing 30 minute visit my last year at Madison. My first summer in Sweden she flew to Frankfurt and we traveled in central Europe together--me on crutches, she with both our backpacks. Most recently, Erica was a strong argument for me to move home and to Chicago. Seeing her out here and looking at the photos from her visit, I wish I had others on my computer. I'd love to see how we've grown up together. One of my favorite self portrait collections is by a man named JK Keller who in an exceedingly dedicated/obsessive act, photographed himself everyday over the course of 6 years. I have over the years, toyed with this idea but never managed any uniform or consistent documentation. My most recent interested has manifested itself in wondering what I look like "underneath my glasses"-- it has now been nearly 2 years since I stopped wearing contacts and have lived behind these frames.
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