I had the opportunity to read the blog of a friend, and reading her cryptic descriptions of her life reminded me so much of how valuable it was to express myself in a public place without being so public. We all share the same angst, it's just different forms. But I decided to find my old works and put them up on display. At this point, it doesn't really matter. They used to be a way for me to:
* Track who exactly was interested in my life (regular readers of my proto-blog included a now-unsurprising list headed by my wife)
* Collect my thoughts
* Be utterly incoherent and yet weave it all back together somehow
* Remind me that I wasn't the only one
I expect they can still be used for this.
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