If a tree falls, and no one is in the forest to hear it...

….did it’s sound exist? Similarly, if I create a blog on line, and no one reads it, is it really a blog? Or it is just a collection of my random thoughts, written away on a few megabytes of data, lost somewhere between the cyber world and the folds of my memory?

I have not linked this blog to any other website. Not a single person knows it exists. This is my little corner of the internet that I’ve chosen not to share with anyone. I’m ‘assuming’ that no one can find it on blogspot.com, however as I was waiting for my flight to leave this morning, I started to wonder if, somehow, it can be found? Can someone do a search with my email address? I’ve written a lot of personal stuff lately. Secrets that I don’t plan on sharing with anyone, and not discussing with those that know of them already. A part of my life that I will have learned a lot from, but wish to bury away.

I will have to investigate a little further. Right now, I’m typing this up on a word doc while on the plane. Tonight I’ll transfer it over to my online blog. I realize how silly it sounds; why in the world would I be putting up thoughts on the internet, of all places, that I don’t want anyone to ever read? What’s the point of an online blog if its only viewer is the writer? Well, I never did like writing things on paper – firstly because its an obvious find, and secondly because I would never be able to go back and read my own writing - its worse than chicken scratch. I’m not keen on starting a ‘running Microsoft Word’ journal either, as I’ll have no way of really accessing it from different computers when I have a sudden urge to write. I’d have to make sure I emailed myself the most recent, up to date version, all the time. I don’t feel like doing that.

As for why I chose the internet, it’s certainly more convenient. I can access it, real-time, as long as I have a working internet connection. I can also hypothesize that there’s an element of risk that perhaps makes this all that more exciting for me. As convoluted as it sounds, it’s true. It’s knowing that the probability is low, but the risk of being exposed is still there. The thought frightens me beyond belief, but something makes me keep typing away. A little messed up? Perhaps, but then, without a little bit of risk, is life not unbearably boring?

The plane should be touching ground in just a little over an hour. Can’t wait to be with the mountains. It’s been a long, long time.