Whatever they tell you, this is not a so-called 'blog'. For over a year I'd updated it every day, which might make it some sort of a diary, but anymore I only sporadically post something and more often than not I back date things. I've given up on catching up on the blank days, though I may still update one or two here or there.
In the beginning (when last I mistakenly called it a 'blog') I claimed that this would be "diary-ish" and that was about all. Since then I've written about the books I read, movies I watch, odd thoughts that occur to me and things even stranger. Occasionally I throw in a straight up "look at this link that everybody's talking about" post, but my derision for so much of the so-called 'blogosphere' stems in large part from that very practice and I try to stay above that sort of thing. I have, however, no qualms at all posting a link to Threadless anytime they have a t-shirt sale, since I can get referral credits.
Of course, I aspired only to post one entry per day, and couldn't even keep that up. So it goes. I do try to keep the entry relegated to what happened or was interesting that day, despite the day I finally publish it, whether that be days or months later.
So again, this is my personal writing, saved for my purposes only (except the t-shirt referrals). I have a bad memory, particularly for the little things that are nevertheless interesting, and posting them here means I can go back and read them and remember them as need be. The fact that it is available to all the world, well, just doesn't bother me one bit. I welcome feedback and occasionally even receive it, so feel free to comment where you see fit.
I've maintained some web presence since the mid 1990s, and I try to keep personal details about me hidden as though to create some sense of mystery.
I'm not really a mysterious person. I'm strange, to be sure, but not mysterious. Most of my personal details are available on sites that deal with personal details (such as myspace, metafilter, everything2, livejournal, blogger, 43people, etc.) and I'm not really interested in duplicating that stuff once more. Most of it is just data, anyway. The government knows my social security number, my wife knows my birthday and nobody knows my favorite color*. Does any one of those, or all of them in the aggregate have any bearing on who I am? I doubt it.
I'm less complicated than I think I am. And I am able to sneeze with my eyes open, have done so many a time, and nothing bad has happened yet because of it. I am, however, completely incapable of growing a handlebar mustache or porkchop sideburns, much to my chagrin.
On Halloween of 2006 my daughter Natalya was born, and despite my best efforts to not alienate the non-baby-interested audience, I started writing about her more than a little bit. Which was good because it got me writing again, having more or less taken a number of months off.
* I don't really have a favorite color, to tell the truth.