So maybe I’m back here.

Writing on 750words made me feel part of a community – even though I never got to interact with anyone on the site. I suppose that’s what this blog was supposed to be about.
Then, one evening, as I was typing away, pouring my mind, heart, and soul onto a website that claims to be totally private, a nagging thought penetrated my mind: what if none of it was actually private?

What if all of the text I was feeding into it, along with a couple of thousand others, was in fact fodder to a giant human-psyche-analysis machine? What if my internal musings and attempts at figuring myself out through the tedious task of daily writing would end up being used, against my will, to help figure out how humans tick for the benefit of some greater morbid purpose? To help an evil system find out how to better enslave its slaves? To catalogue basic human thought patterns? To break the back of the magical illusion of freedom I so love?

Well, nothing’s private anymore anyway, my dear husband retorted.

Of course, to a certain extent, he is right.
You use a freely available e-mail service? It’s paid for by the content analysis you allow them to harvest from your once private conversations.
You have a profile on facebook? They track everything your browser does and then sell that information onwards to advertisers.
You use google? They track everything you do online.
You shop online? You allow google/facebook/other to track all of your purchases, both on- and offline.

You are, in essence, nothing more than an online provider of consumer information for large conglomerates who couldn’t care less for your personal well-being. As long as you are content enough to not make too much of a fuss, they are happy to keep on harvesting you.

I tried to find out more about Kellianne and Buster, the couple who run 750words. I found nothing that could soothe my concerns…
So, well, for the moment at least, I’m back here.

750words was a dumping ground for a lot of stuff.
The game side of it made it easy to keep writing and to keep at it regularly. I earned extra badges and was incredibly happy to have multiple running streaks of more than ten days.

I don’t feel comfortable covering as much ground on an open platform such as this one, so I will keep dumping my rawer thoughts on my computer, in my own little bubble, feeling separated from the larger community of humans. Strange how small perceptual changes can have such an impact on the deeper parts of our selves. I am still writing on the same computer, on the same keyboard, and at roughly the same time and yet… and yet it feels lonely and sad instead of intimate, passionate, and hopeful.

Perhaps this year I will learn to be disciplined enough to write every day – no matter the platform.

Uh-oh… I might have just spelled the death of this blog.

Some three and a half years ago I discovered a site dedicated to exactly what my resolutions list item number two is referring to: write every day! I signed up, got my first badge of honour for writing on three consecutive days, then travelled to Mongolia where internet access was more than unavailable and quickly forgot the password I had created for myself. Back then, the system would allow you to log in with your livejournal account if you created an additional password that couldn’t be recovered if lost. I obviously forgot mine.

As I was clearing out my Gmail account today, I stumbled upon yet another e-mail from reminding me to log on and write. As it informed me that I had joined the site 1307 days ago, which sounds like an incredibly long time, I thought I’d check into the site and see how it was doing… and it turns out I could reset my password without any difficulties.

So, what should have ended up here, ended up there.

It’s a beautiful site that lets you focus on nothing but writing. And above all else, all of it is private… and to top it all off, it gives you neat stats about what you wrote about, how long it took you, and other tidbits of metadata that can be extracted from whatever it is that you write about.

Interestingly enough, it said that I was overly concerned with death even though the 1067 words I wrote in 17 minutes were mostly about how incredible it is to be alive. I mean, woah! We are alive, able to experience existence from a subjective stand point. I often wonder how it is possible that so many people spend so much of their time concerned with what who did to them when they are alive. How can politicians get away with frightening us on so many levels when we are alive?

Why do we not have daily celebrations dedicated to the very fact of our existence? How likely is it, really, that we are here? Whether you believe in a supernatural creator or not, what are the chances of you being you?

It’s incredible, mind blowing, magnificent.
How come we aren’t more aware of this simple fact on a daily basis?
How come we practically never talk about it?