echoes in a vacuum

Some days cyberspace scares me.

It's just so...BIG. To think that even a few people filter through the cracks and end up here, lingering long enough to post a comment often amazes me. Why do we do it? Blog, I mean. Do we do it just as a personal catharsis, or in hopes that someone might catch our words and holler back?

It seems that as the internet becomes a more integral part of society, we seem to hope for those answering calls. Sites like Flickr, YouTube and Vimeo allow us to post snippets of our personal lives - kind of like bait - and see if anybody bites. Sometimes the videos are boring home videos or stupid pranks. But sometimes they're touching portraits of one life, questions about humanity, or platforms for social change.

There are even some websites, like takenote.com that exist for the express purpose of posting a note that may be completely meaningless to anyone else ("What exactly is vegemite?" or "Dearest Lester, Why does it appear that your beard is stuck on with 'silly putty'?") Some of these notes, however, can be quite profound. ("Be the first domino." "Love, like paint, can make things beautiful when you spread it, but dries up when you don't use it.")

When I started this blog, I wasn't exactly sure how long I would keep it up, or what the purpose of the blog would be. I'm still not sure about either. I've probably used the blog mostly as a way to fire off random thoughts and see what happens. Most of the time it's meaningless stuff ("I have a lot of homework!" "I liked this quote a lot." "I suck at consistency.")

But at the same time it feels good to have a networking opportunity, as virtual as it may seem. Another note from takenote.com sums it up pretty well. Maybe the intrigue in blogging is not just to say what we've done, but to "meet" someone who's done that too.

"Hello Stranger,
Just like you, I love, suffer, and yearn. We're not very different."