I think that by now, at least a third of my class has had a blog at some point. Occasionally I'll visit one or another - well, actually it's more like a binge when I do, or perhaps a chain-blog-reading, or even - and, well, it's odd. It's not necessarily the content of the blogs themselves, although that's sometimes very odd, or excessively personal for such a casual reader as myself, or too-much-informationized. What's odder is the feeling that I'm in some gallery, with works of art lining the halls - in the typical manner of art galleries, I suppose. Some have a definite cartoonish style to them; others invoke the image of a somber portrait in dark hues; others are color photographs in high-resolution glory, or more contemplative in black-and-white; others are reminiscent of the beautifully flowing colors of Impressionist paintings; and still others can only be transmediated into one of those self-impressed postmodern paint-splattering jobs.
I wonder where mine would belong in that gallery; it certainly lacks the flash and glamour which are the most eye-catching qualities of many of those. Reading them, I feel that comparatively little happens in my life - not with regret or envy, but with acceptance of the fact that not all are cut out for an intensely extroverted lifestyle and that I'm not either, and with the thought that, even if it was entirely a matter of choice, I would probably rather glow for a long while than burn out fast, even if I do sometimes feel that I'm missing out on a fun time.
Other times, I wish for the other extreme, the scenario I've discussed with Hannah of being stranded on a middle-sized tropical island with only a small group of people. A sense of purpose in my life is often lacking, and increasing the energy of my social life seems to only make the hole larger. Of course, I don't feel that at that time - not until later does it begin to ache, though never painfully. On the other, more whimsical hand, if one is stranded on a tropical island, the objective of life is nicely simplified, becoming living itself. I'd probably hate it after a while. But I do need a change of pace in some form.
posted on Wednesday, September 24, 2003
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