Over
the weekend I was reading through my ancient blog archives (Kiwifruit is a whole five years old
in September but I began blogging in June’03, so I’ve been at this blogging lark for almost six years.
Does this make me middle-aged in the world of blogging?) and I couldn’t help
but think to myself, Carrie Bradshaw style, fingertips poised over my laptop, head
tilted to the side: If I ever kicked the bucket my family can just hand this
URL out and there it would be – an online autobiography: Fi woz ‘ere.

I also
thought to myself how awesome it was that there’s a lot of commenters from way
back then that I still connect with. Some still blog, albeit less frequently as
they did back then (humph!) but many have abandoned blogging for the glories of
Facebook and/or Twitter. One has gone on to choose Flickr alone, and has a
dedicated presence there, with friends galore and comments trailing down the
page (oh I wish I could Flickr like Barb does!).

And there is one blogfriend who has
blogged consistently for almost as long as I have, and as far as I know he hasn’t
bothered with Facebook or Twitter. Hi Rob!

And
there’s others who have dropped off the face of the www. completely. For months,
even years at a time we communicated, and then after a while there was a general fading
away of posting by each of them, one by one, and then nothing. Some of these
blogfriends I miss and wish they were still in my cyberlife. Others? Nah, not
so much.

What
I’m a little sad about now is that blogging seems to be last year’s skirt
length for those wanting to communicate online. Yes, Facebook and Twitter don’t
require the dedication, the application, the self-editing, the creativity of blogging but these new kid on the block applications are so much easier and quicker (oh that I could blog on my
mobile phone – no, scrap that, I wish I could afford a mobile phone that I
could blog on) and that’s what we demand in this running race of a world that
we live in.

But
still, I love my blog the best, and even if I end up just connecting through
other means and my visitors and comments dwindle to zilch, I think I will keep
on writing this online autobiography of mine.  I hope I will, because as
great as it was being able to read the thoughts and anecdotes and recollections
of the thirty four year-old me five years on, imagine how wonderful it will be
in twenty or thirty years time?