intimations on blogging

Instead of finishing studying for tomorrow's test or continuing to do research for the project that I'm supposed to have made progress on by tomorrow, I've been reading some random blogs.  I haven't done that in quite a while.  I was looking at one blogger's profile, and I realized it said how long they had been a member, which led me to go look at my profile and see just how long I've been at this crazy business.  Turns out, I actually signed up for my account in June of last year.  Obviously, it wasn't to start this web-journaling project.  It was another one, or two, that I had initiated as a way to alleviate summer boredom.  It was one of the one-hundred words project deals that I've attempted to do, without success, several times.  I'm not even sure how I came to know about the 100 Words thing, but I do know the one journal I read on a regular basis that conformed to the guidelines of this project.  It was a guy named Rob, and on the 91st day, 9,100 words into it, he stopped.  What is disturbing was his last one-hundred words.  It makes me wonder what ever happened to him:

Day 91 This is one of those nights where I just want to crush the world in my palm, set fire to the sky and breathe smoke, piss in the ocean and take a blade to the Mona Lisa.My brain keeps going around in circles and I'm sick of it - I need to rewire the ------- thing - put it in the shop and rework it before I don't feel like bothering.If I had a punching bag right now I'd be working it over, trying to split its seams or split my knuckles. I don't, so I bash on the keyboard.

I found my first attempt at this little project.  It's kind of interesting.  I was writing knowing that I didn't have an audience.  Four months later in late October, we all gave in to the fascinating world of the online journal, and I have to say, I'm still intrigued.  Not necessarily by what I publish in my bump in the information super-highway, but by the accessibility of what everyone else publishes.  Possibly, it is some new-fangled voyeurism of the reality television or soap opera sort, but I think it is an excellent means of cultural education.  People from all over the nation and the world are publishing what they think, feel, see, and experience in their daily lives, giving everyone else the opportunity to see the world through their eyes.  The curious part of it all is the indefinite audience.  Of most of the blogs I read, hardly any of the authors know that I am keeping up with them.  Same goes for me.  People stumble up web journals in all sorts of ways.  Networks of links from other journals, lists of recently published blogs on Blogger, and being turned up in search engine results.  I don't really know who reads mine, and neither does anyone else who has a publicly published journal.  That carries with it mixed emotions.  It's kind of eerie, but that means authors need to be responsible because what they publish could hinder their well-being.  But it also makes you realize that you never know who is being influenced by your words.  I see it as an opportunity.  Not to relay some message to the world that I want them to hear, but to depict life as it is.  Because nothing speaks louder than truth.