There's been a spate of "blogoversaries" lately, so I thought I would mention mine. I started this in October of 2002, just as I was starting my masters program and mere weeks before Jay and I moved in together.
I don't think anyone but me read it during the first year, but I wasn't writing for an audience. I've always kept a journal, either handwritten or on my computer, so taking that a step further and blogging didn't seem like much of a stretch.
I had some of my grandmother's journals, handwritten and filled with clippings, and I feel like I got to know her a bit that way. Otherwise my memories of her would have been limited to her weaving/crocheting my baby blanket and singing "Old McDonald" because she died when I was only two years old. So the thought of someone reading about my thoughts and experiences didn't really phase me... why write if not to allow the words to be read?
But I've also always been rather introverted. And by that I don't necessarily mean shy, though I definitely can be in some situations. I mean more that it generally doesn't occur to me to reach out or communicate with other people most of the time. I find it awkward to leave messages on other people's blogs, because I can't imagine that they would care what I have to say. Though once someone else comments on my blog, I feel obligated to return the exchange. No, not obligated. Pleased, rather. I enjoy the interaction, but it would never occur to me to initiate it. Does that make sense?
In any case, I've blathered on here, more-or-less continuously for the last 36 months and expect to keep on for many months more... because I like to.