Ironically, this is my first post on a blog that is more than ten years old. It all started with a blog that I created called ‘junkLAND’; its tag-line was ‘a universal platform for global junk’. I believe my intent was to set low expectations, and prepare the reader for simply anything that I felt was worthy of the pen. In retrospect, it certainly wasn’t a platform and I doubt if anyone actually read it, but it was a way for me to express myself, and I think I had a lot of frivolous things to say back then. Incidentally, the Internet Archive still has a snapshot of the site.
Eventually, I got so tired of the comment spam on the blog that I gave up writing on it. Of course, this explanation was not true by any means. The comment spam was merely an excuse for the fact that I got tired of writing, at least for a little while. Later, I had a fresh start with a new domain - silentyak.com. This domain has stayed with me ever since, although I’ve restarted the blog so often I can hardly claim they were all the same thing. The name of the site remained a constant though (that is what counts), and I do have a cumulative backup of all of my older posts somewhere...
It has been a strange journey of words, so to speak. In the earlier days, every week brought something of interest to the surface that I felt like talking about. Not being a very socially talkative person, writing seemed like a great way to express myself. I think everyone has things to say, and not saying them creates this expanse of bottled up energy that eventually has to release itself somehow. If you are a quiet sort of person, please go write something now before you explode!
But eventually, I started writing for my ‘audience’ and words were harder to find. I found myself asking if what I had to say was worth someone’s time to read, and by the time I was done thinking everything through, the moment had passed, and I realized I had other things to do.
There was a phase where I wanted to write about technology and patterns in software. Unfortunately, while no one has all the answers, there is always someone who knows more of the answer on any given subject than you do. Naturally, this made me question the point of trying...
At a certain juncture, I attempted to avoid the pitfall of self-consciousness in writing (performing an analysis of action in lieu of action), but this is an exercise in futility for an intelligent creature, by virtue of the very intelligence that drives it. I gave up on avoiding meta analysis, which eventually led to this meta analysis that you see in front of you.
In the end, I think I write to satisfy myself, because I want to tell someone my stories. If I am the main reader, then you are me, which makes this strangely narcissistic in an icky sort of way. But that’s life, what can I say?