february 6, 2002
it's hard to say what brings me back to the web sometimes, tossed ashore here like some piece of beachglass, smaller and softer than before. or perhaps not smaller or softer, in this case, but different, certainly. it's been more than a year, and i don't really know why i'm back. it's an urge to share something, to reach out somehow, late at night under my down comforter, laptop on my knees.
it's funny, comparing the updates that occur here with the ones i occasionally send out to friends i haven't heard from in ages. here, i don't even think of talking about the details of life so much (where i'm living: washington dc / what i'm doing now: research assistant at nonprofit / what i'm doing next: moving to philly in may) -- rather i approach it more as an update on the moment i'm in. cars whizzing by on 11th street, airplanes shudder-whirring overhead as they fly into / out of national airport. halfway through a cover letter i'm writing for a job i'm excited to be applying to, needing to go to sleep. missing patrick, who's out of town; sleeping alone.
i've tried it both ways, and i'm not sure which is better, when trying to get back in touch with someone -- sometimes i just jump right in, strip off my clothes, pinch my nose and cannonball smack into the details of current life. other times, i do the christmas card approach, rattling off the resume of life accomplishments.
last year, when i last wrote here, i wrote about this same conundrum .
i think it's because, in my mind, the web is so tied up with the way i connect to people i've lost track of. getting emails out of nowhere from people i haven't seen for years (or haven't met at all, sometimes). it's also, of course, about the consistent ambivalence i've had about all my weblogging experiences... obviously something drew/draws me to it, but i'm ultimately not enough of an exhibitionist to fully devote myself to it.
i'm in the mood to try again a little bit though, so i'd be surprised if it's another year before my next entry. i might even try back tomorrow if i were you...
(jump on back)
© sarah kowalski, 2002