The 1st of May (next Sunday) will be my six month anniversary of weblogging, and I find myself confronting the same questions and situations now as I did when I began. My first entry came together at the beginning of November [1/11/99], when was just about to start a contract at Time Out. At the time I didn’t know what the job was or even what the title was. Now I am about to be promoted – at least this time I know what the title is.
The same concerns about writing occupy me as well. Is it all right to write about friends and family? How candid should a weblogger be? Why do I want to write about myself and is it a positive means of expression, or is it too constrained to be anything other than completely artificial. When I am frustrated, can I vent? Or must I be wary of saying something that I might regret later? It took me only two weeks [15/11/99] to start worrying about these things, and I haven’t found a solution yet:
“And then your fourteen year old brother is wondering whether or not your parents should be told about the what you have said on the site. And should I really be advocating the dismantling of the phallogocentric hetero-orthodoxy within his tender earshot? More to the point, how on earth are you going to talk about sex when you know your brother (half your age) is looking over your shoulder?”
And the most depressing thing of all? As I am (finally) about to move in to my new flat I decide to find out when all this horror began – when the spectre of homelessness first loomed above my head. I find that while I only (!) moved out of my flat at the beginning of March [2/3/00], I first started talking about the process way back in January [20/1/00]. It’s no wonder I feel tired all the time…