Exit Strategory

I posted a blog entry on Friday. It was personal and a little too transparent for me to keep somewhere public for anyone to read. Morose, depressing, and a genuine side of myself I don't care to share. Fortunately, it doesn't appear often and the circumstances to conjure my response have since subsided. This morning, I deleted Friday's post. Gone. There's probably a cyberpirategeek somewhere who could infiltrate my system/network and retrieve the file, though I'd prefer it if they didn't.

It brings to mind another consideration, though: Storage. This entire blog has been self-contained, as I've not saved any of the entries anywhere else. Should Blogspot suddenly vanish off the planet, so will these thoughts. My response to which is simple...

So?

No, I'm not quoting Peter Gabriel album titles. But has anything here done more than provide three minutes of bathroom reading material? Is there a post worthy of a search engine tracking me down and offering me a job as a humorist/satirist/house mother for Big Brother XIII? Doubtful.

The idea hit me - I could delete one post every day. By the end of -- I think I'm in the fifties now, but I'm nervous navigating away from this page lest I lose what little I've typed this sitting - however many days, I'd be back to ground zero. As if it never existed. Seems appropriate. Also seems like a sociological experiment conducted by a needy attention-whore. Hmm. Semantics, I suppose.

I doubt I'll delete them, but when I finally decide I've got nothing left to say about nothing, I know one avenue to take. Yep, me and The Neverending Story. Like that needed another sequel. Phew.