beesknees

It’s odd being back on DW. Retro. Never really got a foothold here; not through any fault of DW, but because my real-life/LJ friends had already shifted to FB as LJ declined and I wasn’t in a good zone to reach out and make new friends here. My extended family infested FB and had found my first and then second LJ blog (shakes fist at that one cousin, unwisely trusted); privacy was my priority, even if that meant I stopped connecting with anyone new, being findable to anyone who’d want to reconnect.

Don’t really remember my set-up here. It’s still very, eh, 2002? Whenever I started off with deadjournal in my goth days, before I even had an invite to LJ. Before tags had any use beyond your own categorisation, certainly not for others to search through, and thus were individualised, silly, and opaque to the point of meaningless outside your little circle. Sure, I could organise them en masse, change them to something sensible, but this is also kind of a museum of my brain’s shape in 2006.

And my icons are moody! The 2000s were so grimdark! And I, eh, not sure how to express the little box I was crammed in that I couldn’t present myself as functional and even consistently cheerful. Anyway, they don’t represent the giant goofball weirdo I am most of the time now.

And yup, I miss “likes”. Got low spoons, massive commenting anxiety…I’m reading, y’all! I assume you are too. Still miss the little ticks of solidarity, giving and getting.

None of this is meant to put down DW. I’m glad it’s here. It’s a nice space. Just weird that blogging and its digital-life descendants have existed so long that getting even this close to my roots in it feels alien.