Sometimes I even run into the same blog and it’s like greeting an old friend except this person isn’t really a friend. In fact, they don’t know me and I don’t know them but I definitely know their writing style by this point and suddenly I’m settling into what equates to be a good book.

I wonder if I’m alone in that.

Sometimes, I run into people I once “knew” via messenger or some sort of community and I wonder if they remember me. I scan their about pages and think, “oh, how nice for them” and then move on.

Blogging is something that I hope never goes out of style. It’s so fundamental to keeping humanity alive, in my opinion. Hundreds of thousands of people get online and write about their days and their feelings and then other people connect with them for support or friendship. It makes up for some of the pain and heartbreak in the world.

I think I’ll go read some more blogs now.

I miss the days of anonymity, when no one online knew what I looked like or my name or even my beliefs. I had anonymous blogs with obscure references and I wrote about my feelings and my day and my dreams and I didn’t feel silly for doing so.

And of course, I could go back to that anonymity in some ways. Set up a subdomain somewhere the host(ess) doesn’t really care to know details about me. Return to a time when I was 16 years old and arrogant enough to think my designs were kind of pretty. Just…I don’t want another blog and I don’t want to give up Aithyne. I don’t want to give up mommy blogging. I can’t seem to grasp that I kind of already have.

I do write in my Livejournal – nearly every day, in fact. It’s easy to write there, with a small group of people that either don’t judge me, don’t care enough to judge me or do so quietly (I really think they all fall in the first category though). It’s easy to write only among friends and not worry about the enemies.

But…what would I do, what would my internet life be like, if I ignored the snark communities and the drama and removed certain personal traces…would I be content to write? Or would I find some other excuse, like I always do, because writing is so painful now?

I think I already know the answer.

I was going to attempt a “post everyday” challenge for 2010 but I didn’t want to start something I realistically couldn’t finish. We’re moving soon to our own apartment and Noah’s birthday is coming up and I also have a tendency to only write on my LJ for weeks on end (sorry). Maybe I’ll try for a whole month instead, soon.

Basically, I want to write more, even if it sucks. I want to play with layouts, even if they suck. I want to find a creative outlet and this is a really good choice for someone that is artistically-challenged like I am (I break popsicle sticks, okay?) and I’m pretty comfortable coding still.

Do me a favor and keep on me.

And yet, it’s all of the imperfections of life that we reflect on and remember at the end of each year and it’s these imperfections that determine “this year was a good year” or “this year just plain sucked” because it’s what makes each year different. I recently re-read The Giver by Joan Lowry Nixon and I noted that as a kid, I missed the concept of no holidays whatsoever. Nothing to mark the end of each year to the next except the changing of age from birth to age 12. After age 12, life is one long, boring existence without adventure or uniqueness to make it worth living.

I realize that I’m not saying anything new and I’m not saying it well but I guess my point is, in the end, that I’m learning to accept these imperfections as not necessarily bad parts of my life but instead, an adventure I survived. I can start over on myself every year because society accepts that. I can make resolutions and see if I meet my goals and if I do, I even have the right to kind of feel good about them. But, if I don’t, I’m not a failure. It’s just something that made that particular year a little more interesting…a little more worth living.

I think I’m done talking to myself now. Goodnight, self.

Sure, this entry is random, but that’s what makes life fun. ;)