Monday, February 18, 2013

Who's Heard of This Guy?

It's been more than a year since I've posted here last, and with that requisite telling of blog-time I think I may not post here again. In part because I'm at a different stage in my life now than when I started the old livejournal blog back in Providence. At it's height, Your Daily Fix was read by tens and tens of people, mostly over the summer of 2005 when I was detailing my recovery from ACL surgery, and then again in 2007-2008 when I was in the field. Of course, "Your Daily Fix" was a staple from the old AIM profile days (some of you might remember that).

I'm in my thirties now and still up at 4:30 in the morning because I've managed to lose myself in work that should have taken far less time to complete. That's not too different from when I was in my twenties and up late worrying that my girlfriend was going to dump me (she did), or why I couldn't finish my dissertation (I did!) I guess I never really got the hang of mornings, other than for wonderful relaxed breakfasts with fruit and tea. So late night it's been for me, my friend. Along with the oily skin and random internet browsing that would have done me in as a teenager, but luckily dialup -- and fights over dialup -- kept me away from wasting my evenings on things like bloages, or blogs, or something like that.

But still I wonder if this isn't as therapeutic as it might be for me. In part the reason why I put all this stuff online was to see if writing out all my anxieties to the public would get me to stop being so anxious about them. And I think the solution ultimately was to just be busy. Same thing goes for attention, or love, or what ever weirdness I experienced back in the naughts -- sometimes there's no time for this kind of reflection.

I guess I'm not sure if this is a lament or a celebration. I guess at the bare minimum I celebrate that I didn't have to maintain a food blog with any sort of consistency, but then again I did try to keep you all informed of my quest to dunk, undone by a knee injury (and genetics, who was I kidding?) But it's hard to say good bye to this yesterday, as it's hard to say good bye to a really well-named, custom-created video game character that you spent hours in the character customization screen to make. It looks sort of like you, but it's not quite how you feel, and probably not nearly as good looking.

Now I'm looking at what could become a lifetime job in the academe, with less opportunities to jet off and screw around with Fulbright students or get slapped in the face or even get frustrated with Latin American urban transport systems. While I'll still be able to do research from time to time, I guess what lightning I captured in this bottle-blog was just that, lightning in a bottle. And bottles now are for storing loose leaf tea or baby formula or something domestic, anything but lightning.

The moral of all this is that it's taken me nearly eight years to figure out what a public life was, and that I'd be living one, I don't quite think 25-year old me comprehended. I don't mean in the internet overexposure sense of "public life," the Lindsay Lohan sense, since of course we can be spoken of in the same breath (despite the commas and the running modifier). I mean in the sense that growing into society means being a citizen with responsibilities that connect you to others in ways that a little lightning-bottle blog could never have done, and perhaps never did. There wasn't so much responsibility in posting here the way there is responsibility in telling people how you feel or what you think directly, and being ready for them to ask you how you feel or what you think. As if my opinion matters -- and in real life. too.

So here's to you Daily Fix of My Ego. Maybe you'll live again in some form, but I think we've moved on in so many ways. And yes the irony is not lost on me that I had to write a post about this; what else was this night owl supposed to do?

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