A Sprout
I had a blog a long time ago, essentially as a child. Now, I had forgotten this online endeavor during undergrad. Some years following, I was reminded of it, against my will, on a date I had in Park Slope. We had not even entered the establishment when, right away, I was told he had looked me up online and came across my old site. Why this shocked me is a mystery. It was and still is standard practice to look people up before meeting in person. For safety, for curiosity, for something. Promptly, post date, I logged into my old WordPress to scrap the evidence of a younger me. The domain was my full name. I really am not one to appeal to mystery, am I?
This time round, I'm a tad more inclined to hide internet me, I'm thankfully married (to someone far better, but also with online-slueth tendencies), and I'm exhausted by the need to be a polished, well, anything really. This site will serve as my digital garden. Please take the time to read some articles or watch some YouTube videos about digital gardens if it is the first time you are hearing the phrase. It is a nice little concept.
While drafting this post, I am outside my local cafe listening to Susumo Yokota's 'Symbol Of Life, Love And Aesthetics'. It seems to suit this beginner post of mine.
I have many thoughts floating around in my mind. Occasionally, they drift away. Perhaps this is not for the worse. But if I am observant for a moment, I will notice that gardens are also full of weeds. (Unless you are exceptional at upkeep, which I certainly can be, as it is in my nature. Here, however, I choose a new direction.) Typically, I would not start a project such as this without streamlined goals for the content. I did have a vision for the website's layout. Though, very quickly, I realized I have close to no skills to create my digital desire. During the acceptance phase of this realization, I considered my new domain. The origin of which was not created with any light philosophical backing. It simply satisfied me in a general sense. If I were to create meaning, the most reasonable response would be that ideas are gathered, like seeds (or acorns in this case), into a baggy, pile, or perhaps mug, and they can either sit there and harden or be planted and attempt growth. Even if a squirrel comes by in a scurry and digs my acorn idea up, it really is the attempt that matters. Regardless, squirrels typically forget where they bury their found seeds anyway. I like to believe all oaks are here today because of squirrels' inability to retrace their steps months later. MugofAcorns collects my ideas and places them in a corner, unrefined. A simple interface will suffice, just as a plain patch of soil does for all other acorns.
The wind is picking up as I finish this post. Preparing to rain after my first buried acorn, clouds? How considerate