I was chatting to a friend recently about personal blogging. He asked something like: don’t you feel embarrassed by some of your older posts?
The answer is – of course – yes. I’m embarrassed about quite a few of them.
Here’s an example. In 2014, in a post called Time I wrote:
I’d consider myself a busy guy. I work hard in my day job and do some freelancing on the side. I regularly cook, do house chores, feed and walk the dog, and visit family and friends.
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That’s exactly why I’m reluctant to ever use the excuse “I don’t have time”. When I’m honest about how I spend my day, it’s clear that I have plenty of time to do the things I want to do. And you have, too.
Oooph, that makes me a little uncomfortable now.
I was clearly in a phase of life where I had free time, but didn’t have the awareness to realise that not everyone has that luxury. There’s a kernel of truth to the post – that you should attempt to make time for the things you really care about – but I don’t think I’d write the post in such a matter-of-fact way now.
I’m in parent-of-a-toddler phase of life right now, while running my own business, attempting to maintain a semblance of a social life, read a mountain of books, indulge in personal hobbies, and so on. It’s deliciously ironic to say these days I don’t have time.
Or how about in 2015, when I wrote this:
There are many introverts who I admire; perhaps none more so than Elon Musk, CEO of SpaceX and Tesla.
I just vomited in my mouth. In my defence, this was likely before most of us realised he was a narcissistic psychopath. But I don’t even recognise the person who wrote that. Fuck Elon.
There’s something quite unnatural about sharing your thoughts on the web. It’s uncomfortable hitting publish, for your words to be immortalised.
Writing a personal blog means leaving a breadcrumb trail of awkwardness.
But that’s the point. We can catch ourselves when we’re wrong and change our mind. A post is just a snapshot in time, after all.