nicole lee

This blog has evolved so much over the years, that I barely know where to begin.

It started out as a WordPress experiment and a crude online journal. I often wrote in diaries as a child (Yes, in actual ink! Shock, horror) so writing in a blog came naturally to me. I wrote about college exams, my wedding plans, various emotional travails, and more narcissistic navel-gazing. This blog is perhaps the number one reason I could never run for political office (Well, that, and Twitter, Flickr, Facebook, etc. have rendered any notion of privacy dead). Not that I would want to, anyway.

I’ve neglected this blog. As you might have noticed, the most recent post before this was in 2009. Since then, I’ve paid more attention to Tumblr, where it’s a lot easier to reblog funny cat photos and lengthy fist-pumping quotes that betray my progressive leanings. There’s very little of actual writing on it, though I do indulge in the occasional rant. The major appeal of Tumblr is the Dashboard, where I get to see if people have “liked” or “reblogged” my posts. It’s the laziest sort of feedback, I know, but it’s still feedback, and I crave it like a drug. It’s the same reason I post on Facebook (the likes) and, very rarely, on Google+ (the +1s).

I’m not sure where this blog stands, to be honest. Some of my colleagues use these so-called vanity sites to promote projects, articles, and videos. I have never been very good at self-promotion, mostly because I find it rather loathsome when overdone. Yet, perhaps that’s what this needs to be.

Fundamentally, however, I still believe that a personal blog should have real original content. You should be able to get a sense of who I am from reading my posts, be they opinions or just a rambling of the day’s events. I know not all of you will be interested in my adventures with a pressure cooker or my darling new kitten (not together!), but that’s just the sort of content you’ll get from me. One of the problems with having accounts on Tumblr, Facebook, G+ etc. is that it never really feels permanent, though it is admittedly easier to “interact” with an audience that way.

Perhaps I don’t need to interact. Perhaps I can be happy with an online journal that stands on its own, without the tendrils of social media reaching into it (Ew, that sounds gross). Perhaps it’s okay that it’s not as accessible for people, that it’s harder for people to leave comments, and that it stands alone. Perhaps it’s okay that only five of you will actually read this.

I’ve missed this. I hope to write here more often, whatever the content turns out to be.