Hello, internet. It’s been a while. We’ve both matured a lot over the years, gone our own separate ways, and have been doing some pretty cool (and not so cool) things along the way. But whether out of pure nostalgia or just that strange way you’ve always captivated me, I’ve been thinking quite a bit recently about all the good times we used to have and why I first fell in love with you.
Once upon a time, back when I was in middle school, I published my first ever website to you. It was a little project I had called PixieStix, complete with the iconic Papyrus font of the time, a scattering of bold reds and pinks and lime-greens that would make the modern designer puke, and some tacky animated gifs to finish it all out. The content was nothing to write home about. A smattering of inside jokes among my friends, some really poorly written poetry, and that was about it. But I was prouder of it than just about anything else I had done in my life so-far. It was my own little space that I had managed to carve out in the seemingly vast expanses of the emerging “cyberspace.”
I would go on to make many more websites, blogs, portfolios, certainly a lot more awful poetry, but none of it would be so near to my heart as that first one. It was a pure expression of me and a representation of the wonder and magic I held at my fingertips with you by my side. You let me dream of limitless possibilities and a place where we could all have a little home to call our own. Our friends could surf on by occasionally to say hello, but there was never any pressure to be anything but me.
I lost sight of that dream over time. Instead, I began to yearn for more engagement, more interaction. I didn’t just simply want to exist with you anymore, I wanted to use you for my own selfish gain. I wanted recognition and search results and ad revenue. None of it ever came, but still I wanted it more and more. Over time, as with many of us out here, I moved more and more of my online activity to condensed social networks. It was good for a time, but it wasn’t the same. It was crowded. Everybody started shouting at one another and the joy of the surf turned into the grind of the scroll.
I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to get back what we once had. But I’m here to try. I’ve created this little place to get back to my roots. To once again have that special little place in your vast embrace. A little place to call my own.
So, here I am again, internet. I’m sorry I haven’t posted in a while.
But it feels good to be back.