Deja Vu

I've had a number of different blogs back in the day...

When I first started blogging about 7 years ago, it was all about the design and content.  I would spend hours, sometimes days, redesigning the site on my own personal domain.  I'd fuck with the content management software, stuff the appropriate tags into the HTML and CSS and PHP in order to display the right information or post in the right spot.  I'd write long and nearly poetic posts on the musings of my day-to-day life, observations, etc, all for an audience that at one point ranged in the 100's of dedicated daily readers.  And then, I got bored.

I found this blogging shit too time consuming and flakey.  I was writing and rewriting posts to try to impress an ever apathetic audience, just to get the crack of the blogging world - comments.  Proof that you're not writing in vain.  And then I realized...

Who the fuck cares?

Will the world change if people don't read about my adventures in raising kids?  The events of the last diaper change?  My dislike for navigating rush hour traffic?  My opinion on whatever pop-tart starlet or politician asshat has said or done that made news this week?  No.  No they won't.  I was sick of pouring over a keyboard for hours filling hard drives full of content just to get "Great post Menerva!" as a reward.  So I stopped.

I had stopped a few times before, but for different reasons.  Moving providers, ran out of money to renew my domain once, was sick of censoring myself cause family found my site, but never out of boredom.  I enjoyed blogging.  It was cathardic.  I love to bitch, which would be the understatement of the year for those who know me well.  Truth be told, I'm a pessimistic realist with a cynical outlook on most things.  Jaded and pissed off.  And I find true, albeit short lived, joy in verbally berating those persons and things that manage to irk me the most on a given day.  At this point, I don't give a shit if anyone reads this.  Chances are, one of my readers will be a targeted irk raiser.  Everything is fair game.  But at this point, I'd like the ability to scream, but will settle for wearing out yet another keyboard.  At least this time I'm not spending money to do it, save for the internet access which is high up on my necessity scale as water and oxygen.

This time, I'm writing for me.

And fuck you if you don't like it.

And if you don't like it, leave a comment.  I could use the fodder.

This time, it's for me.  And without an ounce of remorse.  I'm selfish like that.