Submitted by Kaimi
Five people I wish were still blogging with me:
1. Kristine. I don’t know that T&S has ever fully recovered from the day she left. For me, it was the first sign that the honeymoon was over. The bloggernacle had energetic people and strong personalities, and sometimes some people didn’t all fit together.
2. Jim. Like Solomon (with 699 fewer wives), dignified and wise. He faded rather than leaving outright, but it still feels the same: He’s not blogging with me anymore, and the world was a better place when he was.
3. Melissa. Smart, articulate, and utterly inimitable. The purest, most earnest feminist I’ve known. And damn, she was smart.
4. Ardis. The one-person Mormon history expert of the bloggernacle, and how. Her laptop should be declared a national treasure.
5. Adam. Heavens, we clashed. We still do. He was and still is a very good writer, and I liked it better when we were on better speaking terms.
Five people I wish were still blogging, period.
1. Bob and Logan. The old Sons of Mosiah site was a great one, and they supplied the nacle with quality comments back when we were still using Haloscan. Ahh, the memories.
2. The missing Fransdens. Has anyone seen a couple of sisters, long brown hair, downright wicked writing chops?
3. Lisa B. We had a blog dust-up or two back in the day, and I was usually in the wrong. The bloggernacle was brighter when she was at FMH.
4. Christian. The Spinozist. Obey Aaron. I’d be happy with any of them, really. I still don’t know what a Spinozist is, but that’s okay.
5. All of the missing M* bloggers. Whenever did Bryce and Grasshopper fall off the face of the earth?
6. D. Fletcher. (Sorry, I lied about the list being five.)
7. Damn, I think I’m going to have to end this list. Apologies to the many other missed folks who weren’t mentioned. (And don’t ask how many of the people on these lists are my fault. It’s a number more than one, and less than — well, hopefully, less than five.)
Who are you missing, from the days of bloggernacle past?
Cass Sunstein writes about the peril of the internet and the rise of the Daily Me. The peril is that people will just find sites and communities that echo their own ideas back at them.
Early on, the bloggernacle was a messy, noisy, glorious melting pot. Those were the days when Bob and Logan and Aaron and Cooper blogged together just because they talked and enjoyed each others’ company, when Ebenezer Orthodoxy blogged at FMH of all places. And it was freaking amazing — just look at Ziff’s numbers for proof. I still go back and read old T&S sometimes, those days in 2004 back when everyone was still friends, even if we were talking about gay marriage. Life made sense then.
It’s still messy and noisy, but we’ve self-sorted now, and we control our own echo chambers. It’s more peaceful, in some ways. But damn, the Daily Me can get old after a while. (And of course, 9M is as tribal and narcissistic and self-congratulatory as the rest of us. Hell, there’s a fifth anniversary series.)
Seeing the familiar faces guest posting here brings back memories of the good times; and of how it ended, slowly, death by a thousand paper cuts. Blogging isn’t just smiles and hellos. It’s the bittersweet tang of goodbyes, and the realization that nothing gold can stay. It’s a lot like life, that way.
Of course, it’s not unmitigated sadness, either. I’ve had a lot of fun to meeting and interacting with new people over the past few years, Marc and Jack, Jess and the ZDs, Margaret and Ardis and Segullah and everyone else. It’s not that I want to freeze the bloggernacle in 2004/2005 amber. But I still hate the goodbyes, the way that, as Semisonic said, “every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
Some day, in this life or the next, we’ll sit down over a few glasses of [something tasty] and figure it all out: Friendships renewed, stories told, words of reconciliation. And then, of course, we will plan a new blog.
Heaven is a group blog with friends, where the posts are fun and lively, where the commenters feel welcome, and where the trolls leave us alone.