13 May 2009

Five Years of Flotsam

Today marks a milestone of sorts, 5 years since I first posted on this blog. 5 years of rants, raves, family life, felines, projects, crafts, peculiar things, and everything else. Surprisingly few redesigns (maybe 3?) and only one (the most recent) that was significant.

People often ask me why I blog. They say, "I could never do that. Why do you put so much out there?" I usually shrug and say something along the line about always having kept a journal... then trail off. There is certainly something therapeutic in it for me but the most surprising thing to me is how useful it has been as a documentary of sorts.

I have found (and Hubby and I have discussed this) that roughly since Kiddo was born, time and our lives seem to have become "compressed." An example of this recently was the airing of The Last King of Scotland on a third-rung cable channel. I said to Hubby, "wasn't that just up for an Oscar?" Turns out it was -- in 2007. So this blog helps me keep track of things that otherwise might blur into the compression of the last 8 years. I only wish I'd been blogging longer.


Tim Bailey said...

Congrats on the five years, Cheryl.

Ada Saab said...

This is nice. "I only wish I had been blogging longer". Yes and No, for me. My journals in my university days were so full of drama... blech

Cheryl said...

Well, my handwritten diaries, are sad and silly in hindsight, containing typical teen and young adult angst -- I kept them from age 13 to 26. For the next few years I built and maintained a personal website -- the remnants of which are still kicking around the interwebs -- which was the beginning of my "online self." I tried blogging early on (before Google bought Blogger -- so pre-2003) but had to start over with this one. And now I'm not sure what my point was... sigh.

Star said...

Congrats on hitting the 5 year mark.I often wonder how our kids will view our having posted their entire lives for the world to see. But you are right. It is a great way to document all the little things that might otherwise fade from our memory.