Today, according to my homenode, is my E2 Anniversary. And though I had been lurking as guest user prior to that, and hadn't posted my first few writeups until well after that, I find it cause to celebrate. I've been using computers for a long time now. I'm young, but it's been an integral part of my life since I was five-or-six and had a Commodore 64. I can still remember the first time I had logged on to a BBS down in Southern California, a strong desire in me knew that electronic communication, even at the age of nine, was a means by which I could live and communicate.
I'd never been very popular in elementary school. Somehow, being an identical twin, skinny as a skeleton, heavily into video games and computers, etc. didn't win me any compatriots. It did award me with punches and bruises, curses, and I remember specifically when a boy named Gavin spit disgusting hunks of cake donuts in my face. This is the base reality from which we must escape.
It was odd to be as young as I was and taking part in the BBS community. My brother and I not only logged on to San Diego boards of all kinds, but we ran a series of WWIV. Telegard, Renegade, and Wildcat! BBSs with such names as: The Marvel Action Universe (phone number 725-HERO), The Forest Moon of Endor, IBC Comedy Network, you know--absurd things that twelve year olds think of when given the chance. It was quite liberating to belong to an online community at that time, taking a place in this invisible conversation, perhaps the only conversation we had access to.
When the internet came, a lot of this went away. I remember when I stopped going to the RPG game nights, when I sold my Magic: the Gathering cards for coffee, and music. When the real schism of self-awareness turned itself on, blinding me, making me the most self-aware but self-clueless person I can imagine. When the personality traits formed itsimultaneously made me more social in the physical sphere, and less-so in the electronic.
As girlfriends came and went, and Oingo Boingo obsessions grew and coalesced, and even they went on their Farewell tour, the internet was still there. I'd been using Linux on and off since I was in middle school, knew Rob Malda's page because of his nifty graphics for the Enlightenment window manager. And then one day, lo and behold, slashdot was born. I never was one to post comments there, but it was interesting to read them and see how this thankless community developed. (I still don't understand how so many people bitch and bitch on slashdot, when it's a free service and they have no say about anything)-- but this, again, is the magic of an online community. It was not one I wanted to belong to, though. I saw Everything1 start. I thought it looked nice, but who wants to read a bunch of very short, uninformative, usually careless nodes about nothing?
I finish high school. I have an inkling of what I want to do with my life, and it includes writing, maybe teaching in my future somewhere, god damn, somebody needs to come at these vultures and shake a stick, occaisonally harpooning the motherfuckers--what else is the cycle of life all about, anyway?
Thank you everything2 for helping me to find a community that I feel in some way I belong to. Despite that my place here may sometimes seem obscure (or not! who's to say?) I feel that with every small thing that I add, it is something unique and fulfills a space, whether it be about a particular album, books I've read, small things I've written. The times that I have gotten to get feedback has been wonderful.
I'd like to acknowledge a few people, who've made this year on e2 possible for me, and that includes: dannye who awarded me my first editor cool, qousqous who integrated me into the Portland environment, ideath for reminding me through our stuttered meetings "what a real human" lives like, JohnnyGoodyear and iceowl for giving me someone to talk to "on the level," and every single person who writes the stuff that makes me go "wow!" almost every single day of my life.
I'm here to stay, for better or worse, and I'm glad to be here.
the future! dissolving, fuzzy, but to reach in, one arm in the past, one scratching at the door of the future? who knows what's next?