Is it really still here?

I was all prepared for it to have been deleted forever: to have vanished into the ether, to have whizzed down the plughole of cyberspace, or to have flown off into the stratosphere like a feather borne on the wind, reduced to simple text and stirred into the addled mess that is the ‘Error 404 : page not found’ section of the internet.

I didn’t think it would still be here. I was mentally preparing myself for a ‘go away’ screen. The online equivalent of a slammed door. “Rum-tum-who? Never heard of you. Go away.”

Which all makes me sound rather cool, doesn’t it? Like I was one of the people who’d arrive late to a party. Like I’d leave people waiting for me without getting sweaty and agitated and worrying that they’d go away. I’d like to stress that I am not this person. I couldn’t leave my little entries, my babies, to vanish forever. I saved them. Of course I saved them. Every single last one. I’m not so emotionally detached from my writing that I could leave it to be deleted into oblivion. I am too scared of that. I am not confident enough. Even when I write something I like, I’m not pleased. I’m frightened. I look at it and think, “That sounds quite good.” and then I think, “But how will I ever follow that up? And … how exactly did I think of it? How did I come up with it? If this process of making words sing is so fragile and mysterious… how can I ensure it’ll happen again? Maybe I can’t! And if I can’t be sure, well, what then? Far safer to save what I’ve got, and go and make a cup of tea.”

So I saved them. Albeit in text format. I preferred the look of them here. And now look! They’re all still there! Waiting for me. Almost as if they knew that one day, having just got internet access at home (“T’internet!” says my friend from work in a mock Northern accent) while I was supposed to be completing a job application, I would get online… check my email… and then – kind of casually – not with any kind of commitment, but letting my fingers type in what they’d obviously been itching to type for months …

w-w-w-.-o-p-e-n-d-i-a-r-y-.-c-o-m

User name just tripped off the fingers. What was my password again? Oh. I’d already typed it in. Well, no harm in – just – y’know – taking a peep. I’m mean, I’m not coming back or anything. I’m certainly not going to write another entry. Or check my notes. I’m just going to… dip my toe in the water … just see what it’s like.

I could give up any time, you know. I’m not an addict.

It’s just that I like it here.

It’s good to be back,

therumtumtugger xxx