Back in the mid nineties when the internet was making its first tentative footsteps into the mainstream I spent a lot of time squirreled away in University computer rooms talking to various people in chatrooms.
I did this pretty intensively for around 6 months, until one day I suddenly realised that it wasn’t worth it.
It’s not that there wasn’t enjoyment and value in it – because there was. But the positive value I was getting out didn’t justify the amount of time and energy I was putting in.
Fast forward to 2011 and I’m having a similar epiphany with social networking and blogging. The amount of effort, and more importantly time, I’ve been poring into my online presence just doesn’t balance out.
I’ve made some very good friends online. People that I no longer consider to be internet friends – but actual real life friends. And that in itself is pretty impressive, because I’m a pretty grumpy and misanthropic man at heart and don’t make friends easily.
I’ve also raised a hell of a lot of money for a very important cause. The total raised for the Joseph Salmon Trust by the Dales Walk and Hadrian’s Walk comes to something around the £33,000 mark. That’s a figure I’m both extremely proud and extremely grateful for. There is no way on earth that I’d have been able to raise even 10% of that without the support and sense of community of the internet.
But this online thing isn’t like it used to be. Blogging especially – at least for me anyhow. Many of the people who will read this won’t recognise this. Thankfully their corners of the internet have not been hit by the duel blight of competition and commercialism that the parent blogging scene has. And while All That Comes With It has not fit into the parent blogger box for quite a while now, for some reason I find that in my mind I can’t help but place my blog in that herd.
I personally put the blame for the corruption of the parent blog solidly at the door of journalism refugees. As print media slowly shrivels and dies these individuals have franticly scrabbled around in an attempt to find other sources of revenue. And some of them have latched onto blogging. Or rather they have latched onto bloggers. Shepherding them into little pens and lining them up so PR’s can deface them with their brands. And so integrity is lost for the sake of a free sachet of washing powder. Or even a blu ray player. Come one, come all – learn how to sell your soul in return for a bunch of interflora flowers and some Green and Black’s chocolate. It will only cost you £100 and a night in a hotel for the privilege.
But lets face it, it doesn’t really matter. These people aren’t the great Satan, they’re just trying to feed their families. And anyhow, it’s only really parent blogging that’s been tainted. In all the other spheres of blogdom the punk rock ethos is alive and well unmarred by grubby freebies and sordid Top 100 charts. There are communities out there which remain wonderful and unblemished – and I get glimpses of them from wonderful writers like John, or CS, and a couple of dozen other wonderful bloggers that consistently survive my regular disillusioned culling of my feed reader.
And podcasting. Godamn it I love podcasting – both producing it and consuming it. It’s vibrant and exciting in a way blogging used to be for me. Recording the Midnight Movie Club is one of the highlights of my week, even if watching the actual films often isn’t (we’re doing Indiana Jones 4 next week).
But I’m not here saying that I’m no longer going to blog. I’m not even saying that I’m taking a break. I’ve done that before and ended up eating my words (usually accompanied to the sound of Martin and my brother standing at the sidelines jeering at my hypocrisy).
Anyhow, if I’m honest I make too much money from this blog to give it up. Yes, I’ve too have forfitted my soul. Blogging may be dying, but there is money to be made in selling of it’s corpse to the dogsmeat man. I’m saddened by the fact that I’m whoring out something that was once so precious to me to text links for voucher sites and online gambling. But the time to make a stand was long ago. We had our battle of Serenity Valley, and the Browncoats lost. I’ve signed my name in blood and there’s no going back. This place is soiled.
A part of me is tempted to start again. Buy a new domain name, refocus, and press reset. But the energy that would take would be immense. And ultimately, would it be worth it? I’m pretty sure the enthusiasm would just evaporate pretty quickly anyhow.
The sensible thing would be to meet it half way. Undertake one of my periodic redesigns and carry on as normal. In fact the sensible thing would be not to even publish this post, go quiet for a bit, and just come back when I’m feeling a little less like setting fire to bridges. This certainly feels like it’s turning into one of those horrific “look at me, look at me” blog posts.
Just in case you’ve not guessed, I’m a bit fed up at the moment.
I’m fed up the fact that the first thing I do after opening my eyes in the morning is check twitter, facebook, and google reader. I’m fed up of the constant schmoozing, networking, and self promotion that is needed to maintain a “successful” blog, despite the fact I don’t do that shit any more, and I’m fed up with the fact that my tolerance for other’s insincere self-promotion is completely through the floor at the moment.
But most of all I’m fed up of the fact that over the course of the last four or five years I seem to have brainwashed myself into thinking that every vaguely amusing or interesting thought or opinion I have should be shared with the world. That it has less value or is somehow “lost” if its not regurgitated into 140 characters or a pithy blog entry. And really, why should anyone actually be interested.
Far too much of my time is hovered up by the internet. I’ve lost the art of being bored without stimulation – replacing it with the jarring static of being bored while constantly pressing “refresh” buttons.
It’s too much. I’m too plugged in. I need some stillness.
It’s not you, it’s me.
