I love the internet. From the very time I created my own username and password back in the day when Yahoo! was just a search engine and mIRC was the chatroom to be in, when 28kbps was considered a fast connection and you could actually use your own name in creating an account and find that it is still available... Those were the days when people look at me incredulously for announcing I buy things online (not that the big corporations actually sold much online those days; remember the term, "brick and mortar?"). I've always lived by, on, with, the best possible internet connection I could get, with usually the second-best, hahah, top of the line computer model available (with the belief that the latest models always charge ultra premium for first-user privilege).
A lot has happened since those days of free music downloads and Acrophobia and random internet chats... These days, you still have random meetings, but now you can get plugged into literally thousands of people with a simple security setting: "For Everyone." Put up your own page, or in most cases, several pages of self-aggrandizing commentary, on the myriad sites dedicated to social (and some claim, snicker-snicker, ehem, professional) networking sites and, voila! You've got 1496 friends, and that's just the ones you've approved this month.
I must admit I eschewed Friendster (thank goodness! one rock star I respect says it's just like a palengke - an overcrowded, noisy wet market), Second Life, and all other social networking groups, thinking perhaps the internet is getting to be a very crowded hawker market catering for everyman's inner pop tart, indeed. I have been quite content to stay by the sidelines and relish other people's online emotional undressing - the kind that inspires fanatic comments and vicious criticism alike.
Every person who thinks he or she can "write" is always embroiled in a secret self-criticism and a need for ego sustenance at the same time. Rare is a generous writer. The worst are selfish "fluff" (self-professed) writers. So when I make yet another attempt at a blog, I wonder at my own intent. And really, all I want is some peace and quiet. Not an internet space where my mother or mother-in-law would freely wander about and read up on my angst as a midlife-crisis'ing expat mom. Funny how people think the internet is real estate.
A good friend recently nagged me about putting up this blog. And I thought, hell yah! I'm no Brangelina; what do I have to worry about? I am going to create a blog and join the millions of soul-baring, time-killing, unwanted opinion-giving, allegedly web-savvy, networked online producers... With an option to edit. Ooohhh... that felt good, admitting to that...
Welcome to my mind's vacation house. Get lost.
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