silentwaters: (silent) apparently closed up shop back in February of this year. I missed the window of time there was to back my shit up. I had a very old diary there, my OTHER-other not-so-secret diary. Okay, actually, THIS journal is actually my OTHER-other diary, and is pretty completely secret, in the sense that only one person I know IRL knows about it, and that person is behind bars.
My OpenDiary, though- it had a large and lengthy log of all my early college years, and though I don't write much in it anymore (obviously, since I missed the news story about it SHUTTING DOWN by oh, 3 months), it contained a lot of poetry from back when I used to write poetry- sonnets from my sonnet-obssessed period, all my ramblings about my first fiancé, then my early joyous rapturous disgustingly sweet bullshit about the beginning of my relationship with my ex, all those good juicy parts that I've been writing about me and Mr. Man? Yeah, that phase, but with the ex, and in a voice that's about 12 years younger. I sometimes went back and re-read those entries to get a picture or self-assessment of how I aged- it was interesting to me to look back over my changing vocabulary and tone, and think about how I'd matured as an individual.
Not only that, but I had written a lot in there about my ex's cancer period, and then our relationship-failure breakdown period, and stuff was really painful to write and really painful to read, but necessary for me to log for historical reasons, nonetheless.

Now I've lost it all. ALL gone. Like sand poured in a lake. The Internet Wayback Machine has no cached record of any of my pages, either. *sigh* I didn't even know it was going to be taken away until I went to look it up tonight, because I'd written a snippet of a science fiction story in there one time and I have been feeling like maybe revisiting it and writing more than just a snippet, continuing that world.

I feel… strangely less upset than I thought I would, but I think it's more that I realize instant resignation is necessary or I will implode with anguish- Resignation to the aging of the internet and my own lax backup habits- my own fault, taking this sort of thing for granted just because the archive's been running so long-

Which reminds me I should back up my live journals as well, at some point.

But just… goddammit. I can't believe I lost all that. It represents hundreds of hours of writing, and probably thousands of hours of my life.
It's not that I think I'm so important in absolute terms, but… I like to always think that when I'm old, or maybe dead, these writings of an average American girl's life in this historical era might serve as some sort of… I don't know, picture of life during these times. My personal story is only part of the reason to keep it around, but it also echoes of things like technology, linguistics, relationships, gender roles, socio-cultural… Ehhhhh. blah blah blah. The truth is, I've always been driven to journal ever since I was young. And I always intended to archive it all in one place some day, to put the disparate pieces together before I die, so that anyone who cared to look back on my life or these times could get a fuller picture, the good and the bad, the lofty and the base, the silliness and the seriousness of one person's life. A character study. I guess I never really expected to have children so… it was all I ever intended to leave behind, you know?
And now several years- no, over a decade- just fell into a trap door in the Internet and it's all gone forever. I remember back when I had a Juno email account, a dial up modem, and not all of my friends even owned a computer in their family home, much less a personal computer/laptop, or even a cell phone. And then I started dabbling in "The World Wide Web", studying HTML, practicing building webpages with my Geocities account… and then not much longer after that, I got my open diary, before I even started using LiveJournal at all. LiveJournal was the new, untrusted platform, and OpenDiary was where I stored my real thoughts. Eventually I started trusting/using LJ as a platform more and more, and eventually I created this account to say all the things I couldn't say on my main "public" LJ account. Filters and filters and filters. And when filters didn't make me feel safe enough- I created sock accounts like this one. But I always kept my OpenDiary and the few IRL friends who used to use it eventually faded out of my real life (old college friends) and no one new ever added me, as it became a lost and abandoned platform in the face of the newer Social Media menagerie of opportunities to over-share. But I liked to go back there and write, like it was an abandoned and quiet little garden, and I had little fear of anyone relevant to my current life making any trouble with me over it. And I liked to write. I liked the blogging era of the internet. At least we went to the trouble of writing shit out, back then.
Now we have tumblr, facebook, twitter, instagram, vine, pintrest- everything in bite sized chunks, everything designed to be found, everything posted in a self-conscious way, prepped for the paparazzi. If anyone bothers to blog nowadays, it's only for the affiliate marketing revenue.
But I don't give a shit if anyone reads this. In fact, I kind of hope no one does. There are a few people I've wished I could share it with, but my desire for a place to really truly let the truth out unfiltered necessitates my continued silence. If they find it, oh well. If they don't, oh well. But this journal is catharsis, only. I write for me.
And back when I regularly journaled on my "dayside" journals (my more public ones), I kept my "friends list" to actual, you know, "friends" I knew in real life. And I still filtered my posts based on what I thought they did or didn't want to see, or could or could not handle, same as I would be mindful of my real speech around real people. Tact, courtesy, discretion- lost arts, in today's internet, yet for all our TMI posting across the social media sphere today in 140-characters-or-less, I feel like I was… I don't know, real…er, then. We all were, back then. We came online when we had something we thought was actually noteworthy to share, or to express the realities of our daily lives with each other, and when we left comments, they weren't always ironic or full of stupid fucking memes. (We still talked to each other over dinner instead of staring at our phones the whole time, too, so that whole "real friendship" dynamic-thing could like, actually develop. Shocker, I know.)
Nowadays, in that rare moment when we're feeling invulnerable enough to show our real life face to our "followers", we just take #selfies #nomakeup #badhairday #derpderp #gagmewithahashtag

The world has changed a lot.
I feel old.
And tired.

I should have known better. That's what I get for being too trusting, story of my effin' life.
Also, I've been purging the Ex out of my life for over a year now, and all traces of him STILL aren't really gone. I don't know if the purge is good or bad, I just know it's necessary to my survival now to look forward, not back. This removes… my ability to go back and look at a good chunk of all our good memories together. I do feel sad about that.
But those good memories were already tainted, truth be told.
Maybe it's better they're gone for good, simply echoes in my mind. I still know they happened. And someday when I die, the evil that our marriage became will die with me for good. Perhaps that's for the best.

Now if you'll excuse me, a very handsome man just came and kissed me goodnight… all naked and smelling like freshly-showeredOhYesPlease


silentwaters: (Default)

May 2015

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