self, identity, existence

Everyone has a story to tell.

Maybe my college friend, poet Ralph Semino Galan, was right when he said -- with apologies to René Descartes -- "I write, therefore I am."

Now, millions of people find their own little nook in cyberspace to tell their stories, assert their identities, define their existence. Their mantra -- again, apologies to Descartes, and also now to Ralph -- "I blog, therefore I am."

Blogging is different things to different people: a liberating experience, an exercise in democracy, and for some, a ritual for healing and self-expression. But as all these -- by no means a definitive list, I'm sure -- does blogging define us? Has it become a measure of identity and existence?

I ask this each time I have the urge to blog. The precious minutes of downtime that can be used for rest or study, I blog away. Not necessarily here, as I have more than one blog, as many bloggers do. The point is that we have associated ourselves so much with our blogs and with the act (and art) of blogging that to some, it is utterly unthinkable not to blog.

Of course, we are bigger than our blogs, our blog topics, and even blogosphere in general. The snippets of life that we manage to capture and note down, recorded in cyberspace -- virtual air, a system of 1's and 0's -- are precious, fleeting, and almost ethereal. But that's all they are: snippets. Life is too big to be encapsulated in a blog. It is too simple to be rendered as code, and too complex to be confined to bytes.

Simply put, a blog may be proof of one's existence -- not unlike a composer being remembered for his music or a painter being known for her art. Seen in this way, we are not only what we blog -- we are when we blog. We are as good as our blogs, with blog stats as our yardstick. We measure our worth by the number of blogs and sites linked to us. Badges and widgets, we wear with pride.

What then, if we are unable to maintain our blogs? Abandoned blogs -- are they like the "old, abandoned shells" in Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince? The prince said there's nothing sad about old, abandoned shells. Can the same be said for abandoned blogs?

What happens to a blog or a site when its owner passes away? Julia Campbell's blog and the MySpace and FaceBook sites of the Virginia Tech students killed last April -- these are indelible proof of lives now gone. They're all that's left of a measure of space-time once spent on this earth. And for us who never knew them, they're desperate ways of connecting, getting to know, and paying tribute.

All this is a long way of saying that this blog may end up like theirs -- abandoned, for a time, as I give up blogging. At least while I work on completing my Master's Project -- which, again, is just another piece of who I am, proof of a facet or phase of my life as MA student.

I may use this blog to take note of my research... but only if time will allow it.

Everyone has a story to tell. And I have a story to write.