Anniversary of Sorts

1–2 minutes

WordPress has just informed me that my blog is having an anniversary. Technically true, though a little misleading: this blog has been around since 1 January 2017, but I’ve been loitering on the platform since 2006. Before that I dabbled in the great blog diaspora of the early internet—Google, Yahoo! 360, Blogger, and a few others that have long since evaporated into the ether.

Each space had its own flavour. One I recall from around 2010 was devoted to an experiment in World of Warcraft: levelling a pacifist character. The premise was simple—no violence allowed. My Human Priest, suitably named Passivefist, managed to crawl his way to level 7 before stalling out. The challenge was never to attack other NPCs, only to survive by gathering, healing, or sneaking through hostile terrain.

This was my grand opening statement back then:

I am creating this account to track my progress as a pacifist in World of Warcraft. Others have done this before me and are, in fact, way ahead of me. Nonetheless, it is the challenge I am setting. I have created a Human Priest on Kael’thas named Passivefist.

Of course, in later expansions Blizzard eventually added pacifist-friendly content, making my small crusade somewhat redundant.

As for this blog, it’s taken a different path. I’ve recently crossed the 100,000-word milestone—101.4K, to be precise. Not that I’ve been counting obsessively, but it’s a nice marker, even if much of my writing also leaks into other projects: other blogs, manuscripts, and workaday scribbling.

As for this blog…

The intent here remains the same as when I started in 2017: to keep a space for philosophic musings, digressions, and the occasional provocation. I’ll continue publishing when I have something worth saying—or at least something worth testing out in public.

Here’s to the next 100K.

Je m’accuse

I am a terrible blogger. Not “oops-forgot-to-post-this-week” terrible. Industrial-scale, negligent landlord of my own contact form, terrible.

When I set up this blog in 2017, I created a “Contact” page. A tidy little form for readers to reach out – to me, the attentive host. Today, moments ago, I opened it for the first time since launch.

The inbox was an archaeological dig: the oldest message dated February 2019, the freshest stamped yesterday. Mixed strata: a few spammers, several earnest souls, some quite lovely – and now quite abandoned – overtures.

Links from the patient (or long-since embittered) include:

Others left no forwarding address. Perhaps that’s for the best.

I won’t be answering five-year-old requests for commentary. The ship has sailed, hit an iceberg, and rests peacefully in the Mariana Trench. I might still look at some under the “too little, too late” amnesty programme.

I could promise to reform, but you and I both know recidivism rates. Still, I apologise – sincerely, even. These transgressions are mine. The others? They’ll keep.