I've had a chance to reread blog entries I'd never thought I'd read again, and contemplate the many changes that have taken place in my life since I first started this blog in September 2003. And the significant impact that this blog, this thing, has had on my life, the amazing assortment of people that I have gotten to know through this medium and how our lives have intersected.
And I realize that there are, in fact, not one but two Ryans: the online Ryan and the offline Ryan. They overlap but are not necesarily the same person.
The online Ryan is both braver and more foolhardy than the offline Ryan, more likely to speak up for a cause or address an injustice.
The online Ryan is is chattier, more likely to interject with a comment or a joke than the offline Ryan. He's both merrier and more despondent, angrier and sorrier, than his offline counterpart.
(Amazingly) The online Ryan is more gregarious than the offline Ryan, effortlessly moving from node to node in myriad social networks, juggling dozens of contacts ranging from nodding acquaintances to bosom buddies and making it look easy.
The offline Ryan—the real Ryan from which the online Ryan springs—is in reality a quieter, soberer, lonelier person. It's almost as if I feel I have to inflate myself into a carnival version of who I am, to make that mark on others. Why? I already know how useless this strategy is in real life; why do I pursue it online?
*sigh* Another question to live, right? It's a perfect example of how you can look at yourself through a blog, and see things that you never realized before.
Maybe I'm bolder online because I'm afraid I'll just wash out in the blare of the blogosphere, my voice drowned out by other, stronger, voices. That no one will hear me. The offline Ryan already knows that it doesn't matter who hears me; what matters is that I hear myself. It's odd that the online Ryan hasn't learned that yet.


This past summer I attended a particularly funny one-man show as part of the 2003 Winnipeg Fringe Theatre Festival. The show, Seven Sins, was written and performed by the openly gay American standup comedian James Judd, and featured vignettes from his eclectic and bizarre life and career experiences, demonstrating each of the Seven Deadly Sins in turn, to sell-out crowds at the Festival. And Judd has had a rich life to mine for material: at various times he has been a grape farmer, a criminal defense attorney, and an editor of a technology magazine during the height of the dot.com boom.