Out with the old and in with the new

It's funny how one seemingly insignificant decision can have such a huge impact on your life. Back in 2003 I decided to begin an online journal at what was then a small online journaling (not to be confused with blogging) community-based Web site. Originally I signed up because a friend wanted to join and thought it would be fun if I joined with him. To be honest, I didn't like the idea and doubted it would be enjoyable to write in an online journal that the world could read. After all, I was a private person, and still am for the most part. It's kind of ironic that shortly after he joined, he canceled his account and left and I was the one who ended up staying...for over five years.

The greatest thing about the site was the community. People were there to both listen and be heard. I was 20 at the time I joined and pretty angsty. (Nowadays my angst comes and goes.) I used my journal as a way to vent my frustrations with life, family, relationships, school--anything, really--and ended up getting to know people on a very personal level because of it. It was a good feeling to know I wasn't crazy for feeling some of the emotions I was feeling, or that others would have reacted the same way I had to particular incidents.

Not only were people's journals in the traditional "dear diary"-esque format where they divulged details of their day the way I had, but some chose the more artistic route. I distinctly remember every English class I'd taken in school skipping right over the poetry section so I was never able to fully exercise that part of my writing. I soon met a man whose journal, had it been paper, would have been so saturated with rich imagery that it would've dripped when he wrote of rivers and warmed when he wrote of love. His writing was alive. He is the sole reason for my ever attempting to appreciate or try my hand at creative writing. Because of him, my own songwriting and my appreciation for others' song lyrics was never the same, and for that, as a musician, I am truly thankful.

As a regularly active member of the journal community, I developed deep relationships with many people. I had the opportunity to meet several people in person, one of whom was a lawyer who actually helped me get out of a sticky situation with a not-so-friendly real life "admirer." Others were just there for me when I needed a cyber shoulder to cry on. The community is very tight knit and I know for a fact that I am not the only person who feels this way.

As all things must come to an end, I always wondered how this cyber world would come to a close, and now I know. My favorite journal site that allowed me to make connections and grow as a writer and as a person--the site I called home for so many years--is no longer. The site adminstrator put a note up on the now barren homepage informing the community that the server's drives had been completely wiped over Christmas week. The culprit is either a faulty operating system or--even worse--a faulty person. (The note also left a link to a forum where site members could reconnect with one another.)

It's upsetting to think that someone would purposefully be so malicious as to delete thousands of people's life records, and may the heaviest guilt-ridden shame be upon him (or her), but what's done is done. I'm neither completely devastated nor ecstatic about losing all my digitized memories. Of course I would like to have them back, but I refuse to get depressed about it. Maybe it's no coincidence that this situation coincided with the New Year. Maybe it's a sign that after five years it's time to move on from the past and start living for the future. That's how I'm deciding to see it.