I’m not oblivious to the fact that my audience is minuscule.
I’ve been writing and posting content here for nearly seventeen years, and in that time I’ve covered more topics than I can remember. This blog, in other words, has been a mishmash of randomly documenting with no central topic, save one: the author.
Having a small audience in inconsequential. Sure, there are outlying posts, a handful of things that I’ve written with just enough search engine optimized keywords peppered throughout that one of my eight thousand pages of information gets a slightly higher ranking and the resulting traffic blows out of the water any other relative stat on this page.
Having a small audience is not anywhere on the list of things that are going to prevent me from randomly documenting here today, tomorrow or in the future. In fact, having a small audience allows me a great deal of flexibility in deciding what I do want to write about today, tomorrow and in the future.
For example, if I decided I want to spend my lunch hours wandering around downtown taking random video footage on my new camera, uploading that to my Youtube channel, and then posting the results here whilst I wax meta and poetic on the nature of running a blog… well, I can do just that.
Or, if I want to keep on walking past the train station after work, take the long way home by walking over the river rather than riding over it, and as I go I happen to wander over the new bridge… and happen to capture a couple minutes of nice footage of the sun setting on that bridge… and I happen to post that footage to Youtube for everyone to see… well, I can do that too.
Every once in a while I get meta here, actually. In the never-ending search for an enduring idea, I dabble online with this concept of trying to own something of value on the web, even if that something is analogous to little more than a tent pitched in a remote hinterland compared to the big-city lights of all those other websites that are likely listed in the recent history of your browser even as you read this.
This past summer I climbed up the pass of a remote Canadian mountain, hiked to the small tent-pitching campsite twenty-five kilometers from the nearest flush toilet, hiked with all our food and supplied on my back, and… I was not alone.
That kind of space didn’t have a big audience either, but it was cherished so much more because of it. I may not be a mighty forest ranger camped up and atop the pine-specked foot of an ancient glacier, but me and my kind, posting random glimpses here and safeguarding a remote corner of the web for whoever happens to wander by, we have a kind of kinship with those folks.
So… enjoy my randomness, my solitude, my simplicity. And remember to pack out your trash when you leave.