Yesterday was the ten year anniversary of this blog. I meant to commemorate the occasion in some big, splashy way. A retrospective, or a giveaway, or at least a photograph of some cupcakes. Instead, I'm a day late and kind of tired, so this will be short.
Ten years is a long time. I think the only other things I have done for ten years or longer, consistently, are my relationship with Nathan and wanting to be a writer. Everything else - my job, the state in which I live, the people I see every day, my hobbies, my habits - has changed. And yet this blog soldiers on.
I'm proud of having a blog this old. I mean, it's practically ancient in Internet years and it narrates almost a third of my life, for better and for worse. I used to go back and read old entries pretty often; now, I hardly ever think about them. I used to blog almost every day; now, I'm lucky if I show up once a week. I used to write openly about my feelings, how I spent my day, what I was afraid of; now, there's a lot I hold back.
Sometimes I think about this blog and wonder why I still feel the need to come here. I spend far more time on Twitter and Instagram, and interact with people on those platforms way more than I do here. Most of the blogs I used to love have shut down or post as sporadically as I do - it seems we're all growing up and moving on, too busy to dissect our lives online, for everyone to see. But there's something about blogging that I still love and can't quite replace. I like the space I have to ramble and spread out. There's no character limit, no hashtags, no filters. I never thought blogging, of all things, would feel retro or old-fashioned, and maybe now that's part of the charm. In a world where everything is made to be created and consumed instantly, blogging takes more time. It's thoughtful, intentional. And even if I only post a few times a month, I like knowing this space is here when I need it.
Here's to the last ten years. Here's to ten more, in some form.