When I first started this blog, I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to have perfectly written posts, with nice photographs and thoughtful words. I wanted to use the perfect colors and fonts. I wanted it to make sense, and I carefully edited what I chose to include, yet I limited my viewing audience.
I looked at other blogs on the internet, like one of my favorites, Manderson’s Bubble, and I felt inferior because my thoughts weren’t so organized. I didn’t seem to have a clear purpose, and I couldn’t convey my innermost thoughts as well as Bubbler does.
Then I began stumbling. This process requires me to review a given website before moving on to the next. I can ignore it, give it the thumbs up, or say I don’t like it. A record is kept, and as I’ve looked over my preferences from the past few days, I began to see a glimpse of myself. Hmm, I thought. This is interesting. I’m leaving a trail of clues behind me with every click of the mouse.
Ironically, many people attempt to remain anonymous on the internet, but if I take a look at the words and pictures they like – all of their blogs and tags and favorite things – I can see exactly who they are. In fact, perhaps this is a more accurate way to assess someone’s character, because the outward distractions of fashion and looks and polish do not exist at all – instead I get a direct glimpse of the very real, perhaps subconscious, part of a person. Of myself.
As I found things that seemed particularly important to me, I also posted them here at Unwritten. It dawned on me that I had appropriately named this blog after all. In the beginning, I did not know myself. I did not know what I liked or wanted or loved. Through this discovery process, I can connect with images and words, and even if I don’t understand why I’m attracted at first, I can pin them on my virtual bulletin board, then take a step back and see the patterns begin to emerge.
I haven’t felt such a love affair with technology since my college COBOL class. But my heart is open again to this amazing, exciting, powerful universe of limitless potential. Who would have thought that a machine with no soul could help me find mine?