Remembrances and skateboards

This blogging shtick has become such old hat to me now that it’s amusing to consider that at one time I had no clear idea what the hell “blogging” even was. I had read that it was an “online diary” or journal. I didn’t quite understand the appeal based on that understanding. Why not just keep a traditional bound diary that you can hide in the most secretive spot where no one will think of looking, because if they did, they would discover your most embarrassing thoughts and fixations. In time I realized that the typical blog in fact serves this self-revealing purpose. Except it’s more public than the back of the top closet shelf, and in fact, can be read by people who don’t even know you, or much care to. And of course, most blogs congregate around a niche community of like-minded opinions and obsessions.

As they are fashioned, most blogs provide pathways to anonymity. Most bloggers use pseudonyms or vague allusions to their purported online personality. With good reason. If I were to do this over again, I probably wouldn’t splash my name so eagerly all over these sordid pages. I thought of deleting all references to my name on AUM about a year in, but who am I fooling? That’s BS, and we all know it. The internet is an unalterable sounding board for all electronic bells that can never be un-rung. Once you publish any fragment or glimpse of your runaway thoughts, they essentially become one with the global cybermedium and retracting your words thoroughly from cyberspace is not likely. You just gotta live with it. I still must abide by my highfalutin promise on my “About Me” page where I boldly state that I will only say things here I would say to people’s faces. Uh yeah, sounds great, but it’s not always faithfully upheld, is it? When you blog, your opinionated recklessness tends to frankly disregard the readers who might actually be reading your writings. I do mince my words occasionally, especially when it comes to crime victims. Sometimes my knee-jerk reaction is to judge some people harshly for their predicament, and in fact, in my last blog I aroused a couple of angry waves of abuse for things I said about local LA crimes victims.

I am still charmed by the quaint promise of an online journal which you can hark back from the future during the moments of reminiscence. You have the ability to click any random date and get a feel for what was going on in your head or life (or not) that day. Just like the traditional diary. The past is elusive and wonderful and appeals to the sentimental side of us, or those of us who have one. Some of us are very sentimental, while others have no historical emotions. For these people, the day is completely forgotten once it’s over. Not me. I’m very sentimental. I hang on to the past like an Ed Hardy pit bull bites down on your finger.

This entry would read:

December 18, 2011. Went to the park with my son, he rode his skateboard around, I took a few pictures. I watched him go back and forth and it looked fun again. I hadn’t been on a skateboard in 35 years, and it looked easy enough. Right? I asked him if I could give it a shot. And unfortunately, learned that some things are better left in the past. Now my left wrist hurts to bend and my left hip is sore. The wise man knows when the past ends but I’m not wise…