I certainly need one once in a while. Thanks for the reminder!

I did like BCC a few years ago, when Steve first mentioned he had started a blog and I didn’t know what a blog was.

But there are really great posters today that weren’t posting then, like Ronan, Jonathan, and Kevin.

And I miss great posts from Mathew, Christina, and all the others who are around less.

So, I guess I liked the blog then, and I like it now.

As for DKL, I’ve never had a problem with him, because he always speaks what seems to be the truth, even if it hurts. He’s smart, a good writer, and a blog is fortunate to have him as a troll instead of… some other posters I can think of.

:)

But you’re forgetting about all the awesome threads about me.

I’ll agree with Kaimi (#135) in rejecting Burk’s analysis of the time allocation problem as applied to blogging. It bothered me for awhile because it was technically correct, but only if career success takes most of the weight in one’s personal utility function. If you’re the kind of person for whom a trip to the library seems like a waste of time, no doubt blogging seems that way too. But like they say, no one ever puts “I didn’t spend enough time at the office” on their tombstone.

Danithew (#66), thanks.

Phew!

No Steve, I’m not counting T&S out. I’m just impressed with what BCC: has put together over the past year or so and wondering a little about T&S and the state of its “hubdom”.

I agree that Margaret Young is an excellent addition to T&S.

It’s interesting that you ask this right on the heels of your last post. Many of the same themes underlie the two, I think. How do we remember the nacle? I’ve had many a conversation with you about the good old days (I daresay our conversation of a few days ago, about the good old days, may be in some way related to this post).

Have things changed? How do we remember? And what do we remember?

I remember endless arguments with Matt Evans and Adam Greenwood about abortion and same-sex marriage. I remember the T&S sidebar with top-10 commenters, and the names that were on it for so long. You were on that list, and Lyle, and Bob Caswell, and cooper, and grasshopper — so many of the old timers, so few still around. I remember being just blown away by Kristine when she first showed up — weren’t we all? — as she single-handedly blazed the trail for feminist bloggernacking, in her own inimitable way. I remember the excitement as a few _real_ Mormon studies scholars began noticing the bloggernacle — the ugly 12Q with Armaund Mauss; the better reception for Claudia and Richard Bushman.

I remember the excitement at realizing that a hundred different people — you and me and Greg Call and Julie Smith and Aaron Brown and Karen Hall and Russell the Grey Fox — were asking the same questions, thinking the same things. Blogging was a gateway for me to asking deeper questions and thinking about church issues more rigorously. My wife jokes that since I started blogging, I’ve been “getting in touch with my Mormon side.” It’s true.

I remember friendships made and conversations enjoyed. Discussions with Melissa about feminism, with Nate about law and community, with Rosalynde about Bannergate, with Christian about Bannergate, with Geoff and with John Fowles about, well, Bannergate. I remember the energy and enthusiasm of those conversations, the discussions with many cherished friends who I’ve met blogging and who I probably wouldn’t have met any other way.

The friendships are what last. Most of the time, at least. This isn’t to downplay the downside. Sometimes the pain lasts, sometimes the hurt lasts, sometimes trust and confidence can never be reestablished.

But ideally, hopefully, the good lasts. We take the good from our interactions, the things that matter, and we remember the good, and we incorporate those memories into our lives.

The bloggernacle can be rewarding, it can be meaningful, it can be wonderful. And those moments where it all comes together, those are worth the frustrations in dealing with trolls, the endless technological errors (some things never change), the comment moderation, the disagreements with co-bloggers and elsewhere-bloggers, and maybe even the wasted time, lost tenure, lost jobs, lost houses, and unemployment checks. (Okay, maybe not that last few.)

Dan Burk’s quote above about volunteer organizations and wasting time is nice, but it’s also bullshit. Volunteer organizations are _life_. If a person doesn’t want to work his way up in the office from assistant-to-the-general-manager to assistant-general-manager because he’s busy at your local Elks Club or Boy Scouts or ACLU or Greenpeace, Dan Burk’s quote calls that a loss. And that’s bullshit. It’s not a loss, it’s just a reallocation of resources. Who’s to say that time spent doing volunteer work is less valuable than time spent at the office? Someone who doesn’t volunteer much, I’ll wager.

Blogging isn’t wasted time; blogging is life. To some degree, it’s wasted time, but that’s only because life is also, to some degree, wasted time. Like any other activity — work, school, church, marriage, family, volunteer work, working out, whatever — blogging has moments of sublime wonder, and moments of sheer drudgery.

How we view blogging is probably for many people closely related to how we view life. Do we remember the good or the bad? Ask a blogger what she chooses to remember, about Banner or about the good-old-days or about conversations and friendships and arguments past and present.

This comment is already way too long, and I’m pretty much out of juice. Let me just end, like any good Mormon, with a testimony:

There is too much good in the bloggernacle to simply dwell on the bad. There is friendship and knowledge and sincere (though imperfect) attempts to build a community, to comfort others, to develop friendships. There’s a rich and beautiful history — not without its bumps and bruises and the times it went off the tracks, but then that’s life, too. The friendships we make in the nacle can be real and strong; the ideas and knowledge we find can have a real impact on our lives; and as for me personally, my life is better because of the bloggernacle and the people I’ve met through it. The blogs, and the people I intneract with on them, have contributed pain and frustration and sorrow and annoyance at times, but I’ve gained so much more in friendship, support, understanding, knowledge, comfort, and growth. The net effect is unmistakably positive.

Do we, should we, remember the good? Hell, yes.