Hello again world

I don’t have anything profound to say. And that is the point. I haven’t been writing, haven’t been publishing. And I should. I want to. It’s funny how by not doing it I turn it into something precious. The pressure to write builds up into this thing where in order to write I have to come up with something REALLY GOOD. Something really good to beat the silence. To make the silence worth the wait. Or something.

Stop.

I’m just tired. Busy. Until last Thursday I was traveling like mad, presenting at conferences. Now I’m home for a while. Well, for a month. Which seems like forever. I haven’t been home for four weeks in a row since February. Now it’s November.

So I have nothing much to say in this post. Or more honestly, I have so freaking much to say, I don’t know where to start. So I’m going to start here. I just need to break the silence. And get into a habit of posting. So I’m posting this. And I’m going to publish it without thinking about it. Without proof-reading it really. Without thinking about how it will be received.

This is how so many people used to blog. Before Twitter. Before follower counts. Before we wanted or worried about massive audiences. We were few in number, talking to each other. Having simple conversations.

Now everything seems so complicated. So IMPORTANT. Or not, and therefore, not worthy.

I worry about Twitter. The company doesn’t care about things I care about. It will do whatever it needs to for the money it wants. It might go away. It might get even worse. By outsourcing our whole means of connecting to each other to a company we seem to agree we hate… we are putting our relationships at risk. So I’m determined to at least start getting away from the monopoly of Twitter by posting to my website. A lot. I’ll setup RSS (or double check that it’s already been setup, or setup multiple options or whatever something better) and I’ll try for the dozen-teenth time to get the CMS that runs this site to connect to Twitter and crosspost in some way. But… all of that is a delay. An excuse to not write until all is perfect. Forget that. I’m posting this. Resetting expectations. Building a habit.

Do we dare to write on our own sites again? Do we dare to not be polished or perfect? Do we dare to ramble for tiny audiences who might not care? I hope that I can dare to do just that. Starting here.