Someone asked me not so long ago what my blog was about.
The only answer I could think of was “er…about six and a half years old, actually”
Weird question. Bad answer.
In related news, I popped into a pub full of people with blogs yesterday afternoon (principally to see my sister), and felt like a Betamax in a room full of DVDs.
Update: Having pondered, I wish to clarify my feelings about the above statement: Anyone who’s been blogging for ages will confirm that although at the first British Blogmeet (we called ourselves GBlogs, then) in June 2000, you could fit us all around a very small table in a pub in Kings Cross, these days blogging is far too popular and enormous not to have fragmented into smaller groups, cliques and frankly, bunches of friends. The newer generation of bloggers may not know me, or care about whatever influence I may have had on blogging in the UK in the past - but then, I don’t know them, either. You can count the blogs I regularly read on one hand. OK, maybe two, if you include all the secret ones.
Actually I think that’s a great answer. I must remember that for future use.
I felt like VHS. Slightly newer, but from today’s perspective only marginally less obsolete.
The same “about” question was asked of me on Saturday. I couldn’t answer it on the spot, though in retrospect the only satisfying answer is that it’s about… me.
I still have no idea what that means. Which is possibly the best reason (maybe the only reason?) to keep writing.
I regret to say that when I’m asked about my blog or blogging, I seem to turn into some sort of Monty Python professional Northerners sketch: it were all fields round here, Blogger would be unavailable for days, there were nowt such things as comments, I knew every blogger in’t UK by name. Et bleedin’ cetera.
Then I hear myself, and I suddenly want the ground to swallow me up and put the people listening to me (if indeed they are, which is unlikely) out of their misery.
Guys (and Meish especially), Beta implies that you’re obsolete and I think we all agree that’s not the case.
I prefer to think of you as Vinyl compared to MP3. Vinyl: the choice of the purists, the artists, those in the know and those seeking inspiration. You don’t see DJs mixing MP3’s live in Ibiza, it’s all vinyl.
For me it will be a grand day when someone asks, “What is your blog about?” and I can answer, “About six years old!”
My clarification: I found myself thinking “isn’t it weird that I haven’t even heard of half of the people here” and then realising just how outdated a viewpoint that is.
As Meg’s update indicates, back in Ye Olden Days you tended to recognise everyone at a blogmeet, even if you didn’t read their stuff. Things have moved on and I felt rather old-fashioned.
That’s not meant to justify why I sat at the table all night talking mostly to people who I already knew, rather than circulating. This was due to the far more earthly phenomenon of stomach cramps.
I am a bit annoyed with myself for not coming over and speaking to you.
…and I wish I’d come over earlier, rather than “saving you for later” and then missing the opportunity entirely. Bah.
(By the way, that “what is your blog about?” question neatly encapsulates the difference between first-wave and second-wave British personal blogging.)
Just as well I wasn’t there, then. I’m far too disastrously shy to circulate. People have to come over and speak to ME - knowing this oft-publicised fact, obviously - or miss out on the considerable pleasure of my sparkling wit and erudite conversation (er, apparently).