I just realised I’ve missed this blog’s birthday. In February, this blog turned three years old, which makes it seem almost ancient. I started Going Anon and On because I was pissed off at my then-boss. He had essentially told me I wasn’t allowed to blog about anything even tangentially related to my work because apparently my little personal blog was slathering disrepute upon the brand name for which we both worked. Most would probably say it was not an unreasonable ask but when I’m told I can’t do something, unless it involves maths, I almost inevitably have to do it. That’s why this blog was anonymous. Not because I didn’t have the balls to be associated with what I wrote, but because I was sneaking around the boss’s orders. So I shut down my old .blogspot.com, slinked up to WordPress (blessed move, by the way), came up with Going Anon and On, and felt hugely chuffed at having come up with a darn good title.
A good friend of mine didn’t get why I needed to set up another blog so soon after I’d had my knuckles rapped for blogging. What if my boss found this one too, my friend asked. How many blogs would I shut down and start up again? I stuck my chin out and said there was no way anyone could prove that Anon was me. I wouldn’t own up to having a blog, certainly not to my boss. If my boss found a very random, anonymously written blog and spent enough time reading it to recognise the writing as mine, then clearly boss was either a stalker or entirely too unemployed. The latter didn’t the boss and the former I didn’t want to consider, thank you very much. “I just don’t get why you need a blog,” my friend said to me. “Especially when it’s likely to cause you trouble.”
Obviously I didn’t need a blog but I wanted it. I wanted it to be a diary of sorts, one in which I would record two things in particular: undiplomatic opinions of the art exhibitions I’d seen and the toppling tower that was my personal life. The latter still hasn’t happened and I doubt it ever will, particularly given the gaping holes in this anonymity cloak. This is as close as I’m likely to get to a compulsive confession. But scoring one out of two isn’t too bad. I think I did a pretty decent job of dishing the dirt on the shows I saw for about two years. The Art posts from the past have often proven to be precisely as useful as I thought they’d be when I started this blog. More than a couple of times, I’ve noodled over here and hunted out an old post to remind myself of a show while writing something or the other. If the site statistics are anything to go by, a lot of the people who have visited this blog over the last three years had the same idea.
Which is why it’s terrible that I wrote almost no Art posts in the past year. If you look at the posts from 2010, you’d think I’ve barely been near an art gallery. This is not true. I’ve been to numerous exhibitions but I slacked off and didn’t write about them. Now of course, I can barely remember them. (The fact that I have an abysmally bad memory is why I’d decided to blog about art shows in the first place.) So, as a belated blog-birthday resolution, I hereby swear to not slack off like I have for the better part of last year. The art posts will return.
Well, not now precisely. But right after I’ve wolfed down my dinner of fish taquitos.