Another domain?

Domains were once abundant in my life. Every new idea seemed to demand its own domain— a clever online space to embody the thought, regardless of whether it ever went anywhere.

How much money did I waste on these domains for projects that never materialized? I’ll probably never know.

Now, fewer is better. It’s not about reducing my digital footprint, but about recognizing that most ideas won’t turn into something tangible. I’m tired of throwing time and money at digital placeholders that don’t carry real value.

But what does this mean for how I represent myself online, especially when it comes to maintaining a personal blog?

Using my own name and a primary personal domain makes sense— but it’s also a problem. What about the quirky, unpolished, or even misrepresentative posts I’m bound to write? I also don’t want a blog to be a curated portfolio or a professional showcase. I want a space where I can be my full self and share ideas freely with the world. There has to be a middle ground, but I’m not sure I’ve figured it out yet.

If these two purposes—personal expression and professional representation—can’t or shouldn’t coexist on the same platform, then what? Another domain?

Washed: Something-Point-Oh

Back in the glory days of blogging—let’s say 2005 to 2007, before Twitter monopolized everyone’s attention—I was a blogger. Dare I say, a prolific blogger.

I had a blog, posting daily.
I kept a blogroll.
I even met up in person with people from that blogroll.

When I traveled across the country, I made it a point to connect with people I only knew through words online. I loved comments, then hated them, and eventually, I loved to hate them. I even made enemies online.

My blog, then titled WASHED (for no particular reason), started with good intentions—at least I like to think so. I was introduced to blogging during my early university years, after a long history of re-publishing other people’s content on one GeoCities page after another. Blogging, particularly on Blogger, felt like the perfect medium to create and share my own content—myself, online.

What I had to eat.
What I was doing.
My half-formed thoughts.

Blogger was my Twitter before Twitter became my Blogger.

Then things went south.

Depression hit hard.
I hated everything around me.
Drunken rants spilled onto the page.
I tried to hide in plain sight—under a pseudonym that everyone who knew me, knew.

WASHED quickly turned into something that needed to go.

I downloaded years of posts.
I printed out my words, images, and all the misspellings, grammar mistakes, and punctuation errors into a single volume for posterity. Then, I shut WASHED down.

...

Since 2007, as Twitter rose and eventually fell (somewhere around 2012-2014), I’ve tried to get back into blogging, but nothing stuck. The perfect platform didn’t help. Topic after topic failed to focus my attention. With my 'public image' now public, at least locally, I couldn’t hide in plain sight anymore. Everything—and I mean everything—I shared online was scrutinized by someone. Someone was always offended, concerned, or just out to get me. I had fans and I had haters. Those were some kind of days.

But blogging never felt the same. Nothing ever clicked. The feeling of the pre-Twitter era couldn’t be recreated.

Now, with whatever limited wisdom I’ve gained over the years, maybe the time is right again. Maybe it’s time to return to the basics—the roots of it all.

...

Blogging for blogging’s sake. Daily thoughts, published without rhyme or reason. An outlet to express my whole self.

This time, without (most of) the depression, without self-deprecating monologues or drunken posts, and without worrying about who’s watching. And with a platform that feels sustainable, controllable, and simple enough. Simply enough.

No promises—neither to myself nor anyone else—about what this might become. Just a stream of consciousness, ready for public consumption. My thoughts, interests, and feelings, out in the world again.

This is WASHED, version something.0.