|It's also possible...
||[Jan. 21st, 2015|11:02 am]
Barn's burnt down; now I can see the moon.
looking backward in this journal, that I should bow out now, download an archive and keep it as a relic from the past. Given that the last time I posted (before the post I made a few minutes ago) was five years and an entire lifetime ago (different marriage[s], different job[s], different geographic state, just to name a very few.)|
Or perhaps it's good to pick it back up, show the continuity of life. The ebb and flow and that I am not defined by who I'm with, where I work, or where I live. Though, to be fair, it does influence the person I am.
Is this a thing? In this day and age, wondering about what to do with old blogs, old social media accounts? I know friends who've deleted their MySpace profiles (after remembering that they HAVE MySpace profiles), people who've gone through Facebook and systematically deleted all posts prior to last year, others who've turned their once public Livejournals to private because they were horrified about the people they used to be in their late teens and early twenties.
Part of me scoffs at that, especially the latter. Like, seriously? This is all part of growing up and evolution of the self. At least in this day and age. Oh, so you were self-involved, whiney, introspective, moody, fabulous, overly-exuberant person who made some poor choices which may've involved relationships, booze, and fashion? Welcome to life, my friend. I seem to be the only one who wants to look back with a slightly abashed tenderness and say, ¨man, I made some stupid choices. Let's laugh and learn from them and not do that again!¨ Instead, it's a ¨must hide the jackass I was in the past!¨
Granted, in this day and age, where your cyber footprint can follow you around like a digital ball and chain, where prospective employers can find those drunken MySpace pics or those pejorative-laden LiveJournal posts about how much everything FUCKING SUCKS RIGHT NOW because that ASSHOLE OR BITCH BROKE YOUR HEART and why the fuck is s/he reading your PRIVATE JOURNAL (here's a hint, dumbass: because you published it on the internet and didn't set it to private. Or if you did, it's still published. On the internet. Which means that the privacy you think you have is mostly a joke and if you don't want something public, DON'T FUCKING POST IT TO THE GODDAMNED INTERNET), or that truly hideous and slightly (to entirely too) provocative outfit that you would never want to be judged on, perhaps it's better to remove some of that historical detritus from public consumption.
I just find myself walking a fine line between wanting to have all this stuff to refer to, whether it's for writing or personal growth or a bit of both. I don't want to forget the person I was, because it helps me understand the person I've become and the person I yet want to be. It helps me feel sane in that I have a record that certain things did, in fact, happen because once enough time has gone by, you start to wonder...was it really that bad/good? Did I really say that? Did s/he really do that?
These aren't questions with easy answers, but I'm really curious if anyone reading this has any input.