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Why is this journal public?

I sometimes question why I've got all this weird stuff out here for the world to glance at. After all, who should really care about my life? I don't expect even a quarter of the people who read this regularly to care about me as a person.

I started my online journal-like writing back around in 2000, when I started posting random amusing rants about things on my now mostly-defunct website. Those are actually reasonably well-done essays, in the style of my random weird long rambling letters to people, only more focused.

I've been writing in a paper journal since January 16, 1991, the same day the Gulf War started. In the ten years between 1991 and 2001, I managed to fill up a ten gallon plastic tub worth of assorted paper journals: computer printouts, actual bound books, looseleaf binders, spiral-bound notebooks with my random braindumps. Now I put them online.

If it comes out on the page, it doesn't have to stay in my head. I like the ability to Google it, and it's easier to put these things here where a good 80% of the people I actually care about will read it (my father and assorted aunts included). Eh. It's a thing.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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