From now on I have the intention to call you as it is & as it suppose to be since the first man or woman (avoids sexism), had ever came up with the idea of self preservation of one's memory & part of one's memoir in a time capsule, diary, engraving, tomb stones & whatever else we decided to call you.
Dear diary,
Was once what we called you when we find the need or practically urge to share our deepest darkest & brightness secrets with someone. & yet faced with the uncertainty whether our secret is well kept & safe in another or if our joy will ever be acknowledged by another as approving without having seeming as boasting, in other words showing off.
I once asked myself what is the meaning of diaries & the replacement of it with blogs?
It used to be so personal & secretive, mysterious. Even suppose to be a taboo to be reading other's diary. I mean, come on, who wants your big nosed brother sneaking into your thoughts.
In another words, do you want your frienemy to ''catch up'' some good times?
& yet there's this wonderful sense of sharing that none of us could truly well explain or put it down in words.
Surely this feeling has cropped up in every blogger's mind : Why blog when there's something as a diary?
No. Really, why? Apart from the technical answer of, ''Oh, it's easier to transfer photos''
''Typing is faster for me"
''Umm..it ... last forever?
Sorry, I think you missed the part where you could opt for: only author could view the blog.
I myself find it rather vague to answer this type of question that popped up, & yet I'm loving every second of the idea of blogging & sharing.
One thing I'm sure though:
There's no definition for blogging.
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