The concept of blogging, for me, at least, speaks to a desire to simultaneously understand myself and be known.
People have written in diaries, and journals, for centuries. Even before more formalized writing, we passed down knowledge and views through story telling. Some become immortalized in legend, while others are forgotten before the hangover subsides.
I have a collection of several binders full of writing that date back to the sixties, when I was in high school in Toronto. Squirreled away, I bring them out periodically, to review their contents. They tell a story of who I was then. The fact that they remain in existence tells another story of who I am today.
I hold onto things, and ideas. I am a collector, a note taker, who at times finds it difficult to let go. Blogs, as they are evolving are perhaps another way of holding on to who we were, and may help us redefine ourselves into the future. They also are often full of much prattle about nothing; a whimsical walk through our daydreams and fanciful thoughts, desires, and regrets.