One Thousand Little Stories

This is my 1000th post here at 4Q10D.

I’ve been a bit worried that it wouldn’t happen, given the chaotic mess that this month has been.  I started out trying to post every day, and then it became every other day, and then it became every third day.  It’s been a “beat back the alligators” kind of time over here recently, and while this is a very good thing – in that it represents full employment in my chosen field, my classes are going very well, and I’m being treated well by all of my various employers – it does mean that there has been precious little time available for blogging.  I’m down to weekly of late, and that has to change.  It will, soon enough, I hope.  At least back to every third day, or so.  I’d like that.

I miss it when I don’t write, much more than I thought I would when I started.

It’s taken me a bit over six years to reach this point, and there was a point this summer when I thought I might be able to time this post to that anniversary.  Didn’t work out that way.  When I started I was unemployed and had a lot of free time – something not so now, clearly – and my previous blog that I had begun in 1999 had petered out about four years previous (2004, if you don’t care to do the math).  Tabitha was just about to start kindergarten.  Lauren was still at the daycare.  Things were different.

I never really knew what to expect from this.  It started off as a place for me to write stories, and that’s pretty much what it remains.  It is a place where I write down what I hope to remember, where I share stories with whomever cares to come along for the ride, about the things that seem to be of concern.

There was a period where I wrote a lot about politics, because that was what was on my mind.  I’ve largely moved away from that now, as I find that it just makes me angry and convinces nobody.  I’m sure I’ll get back to it again at some point.  It does get onto my mind even so.  Mostly I just write about whatever interests me, though.

My family interests me.  The absurdity of normal life interests me.  History interests me.  A lot of things interest me, which is a good way to be, I think.  When nothing is interesting, you might as well go back to sleep.

Along the way I have met – both virtually and, on occasion, in meatspace – quite a few good people.  For that I am grateful. 

And it’s easier to write things here and put photos here than it is to make copies and send them out to all the people I’d like to show them to.  That’s how the first one started too – a central repository of stories and photos.  If there is a better definition of a blog, I haven’t found it.

So I write what I can when I can.  I wish I could write more.  At some point I will.

There are a thousand little stories here, all filed chronologically even if their subject matter veers haphazardly across time and space.  There is an illusion of order overlaying the chaos of ordinary life, and ain’t that always the way?

What a long strange trip it’s been.