Thank you, D-X
Some people let off steam by singing karaoke, by screaming, by working out a good sweat. When I need to vent my frustration, I organise. If you see my CD's arranged in alphabetical order, clothes according to the colours of the rainbow (black and white after the coloured clothes), books by height (library books by due date), you do not want to come near me.
Some time ago, in need of such an outlet, I also started saving my entries in my old journal over at Diary-X, one by one, in reverse chronological order. Last week, D-X went down, but everyone was hopeful that it'd get back up eventually. Yesterday, Stephen (creator of D-X) announced that the damage to the drive on which all of D-X was hosted was too extensive: everything has been "irrecoverably lost."
The D-X platform was special for many reasons. Notably, it had an active community where people came together just by virtue of being D-X users; you don't see Blogger users doing that. Also, it was single-handedly founded and developed by Stephen, and he often wrote about his thought process: why he wanted to implement this feature, what he wanted to do next, what his restrictions were. He insisted on keeping single-entry pages because he wanted everyone to understand what it means to keep a journal; a journal is not a blog. Part of what made me love D-X so much was also because of Stephen's writing; I think I read through years of his journal in a single night. He promised that he would always keep D-X free, because he knew how much people needed it -- he needed it; he was one of us.
D-X was a dream in terms of confidentiality. D-X journals don't turn up on searches; it allowed you to lock entries; it allowed you to lock your entire journal. D-X made me feel so comfortable that I held nothing back. I poured out my tears, my dreams, my joys, my heartaches, without reservation. And then I blamed people for invading on my privacy. I'm stupid that way.
For reasons that I'm unable to put into words, it's a lot easier to stay impersonal on Blogger. For those same reasons, Blogger would never be able to take the place of D-X.
I'm extremely sad at the demise of D-X. I'm sad for Stephen; he must be absolutely crushed. I'm sad for the journals that were lost. Among them, I have a couple that I still keep tabs on (up until now, at least). D-X also does not generate feeds, and there's something precious and old-school about actually visiting someone's journal to see if it's been updated -- that small measure of anticipation and wonder.
Speaking of old-school, there was Richard, who visited the US from Bradford as an exchange student, and fell in love. His journal documented that journey, and his heartbreaking return to England, where everything was the same, yet everything had changed. Then there's Drea, a teenager whose constant maturity never ceased to amaze me. Drea was never afraid to talk about her insecurities, and in that way, she made me feel like I wasn't alone. She always knew the promises that God had for her, even in the darkest times, and in turn, she made me feel like I had hope too. And of course, there's Stephen, who -- since I joined D-X -- has gotten married, had a kid, and at last count, is expecting another.
Some time ago, I started saving my D-X entries, but I never got to finish it. I got all the way up to April of 2002, which means that about a year and a half worth of entries prior to that is lost. But it was never about the destination anyway; it was always about the journey. D-X was there when I needed it, and that is what matters.
Some time ago, in need of such an outlet, I also started saving my entries in my old journal over at Diary-X, one by one, in reverse chronological order. Last week, D-X went down, but everyone was hopeful that it'd get back up eventually. Yesterday, Stephen (creator of D-X) announced that the damage to the drive on which all of D-X was hosted was too extensive: everything has been "irrecoverably lost."
The D-X platform was special for many reasons. Notably, it had an active community where people came together just by virtue of being D-X users; you don't see Blogger users doing that. Also, it was single-handedly founded and developed by Stephen, and he often wrote about his thought process: why he wanted to implement this feature, what he wanted to do next, what his restrictions were. He insisted on keeping single-entry pages because he wanted everyone to understand what it means to keep a journal; a journal is not a blog. Part of what made me love D-X so much was also because of Stephen's writing; I think I read through years of his journal in a single night. He promised that he would always keep D-X free, because he knew how much people needed it -- he needed it; he was one of us.
D-X was a dream in terms of confidentiality. D-X journals don't turn up on searches; it allowed you to lock entries; it allowed you to lock your entire journal. D-X made me feel so comfortable that I held nothing back. I poured out my tears, my dreams, my joys, my heartaches, without reservation. And then I blamed people for invading on my privacy. I'm stupid that way.
For reasons that I'm unable to put into words, it's a lot easier to stay impersonal on Blogger. For those same reasons, Blogger would never be able to take the place of D-X.
I'm extremely sad at the demise of D-X. I'm sad for Stephen; he must be absolutely crushed. I'm sad for the journals that were lost. Among them, I have a couple that I still keep tabs on (up until now, at least). D-X also does not generate feeds, and there's something precious and old-school about actually visiting someone's journal to see if it's been updated -- that small measure of anticipation and wonder.
Speaking of old-school, there was Richard, who visited the US from Bradford as an exchange student, and fell in love. His journal documented that journey, and his heartbreaking return to England, where everything was the same, yet everything had changed. Then there's Drea, a teenager whose constant maturity never ceased to amaze me. Drea was never afraid to talk about her insecurities, and in that way, she made me feel like I wasn't alone. She always knew the promises that God had for her, even in the darkest times, and in turn, she made me feel like I had hope too. And of course, there's Stephen, who -- since I joined D-X -- has gotten married, had a kid, and at last count, is expecting another.
Some time ago, I started saving my D-X entries, but I never got to finish it. I got all the way up to April of 2002, which means that about a year and a half worth of entries prior to that is lost. But it was never about the destination anyway; it was always about the journey. D-X was there when I needed it, and that is what matters.
posted by Laughingcow at 12:02 am
7 Comments:
Interesting habit you have for letting off steam :) I wish I own that habit. If I do, my room would not be a mess like it is now :)
Unfortunately (or fortunately), it doesn't happen often enough. My room's more often messy than it is neat. ;)
i was not really a fan of D-X cos i didnt like its formatting.. kinda preferred looking at a few of my entries at the same time, privacy? livejournal offered me that. besides, i had my own hard copy journal at that time.. haha.
but somehow this post touched me.. hope D-X will be up soon. =)
Amen, amen, amen. Lovely post. Blogger is nice, but it isn't home.
lyn: It's all about personal preference. :) I think D-X will also be dear to me because I wrote there during a time where I didn't know such things as comment boxes. So when I did get any sort of feedback, it was via e-mail and that was extremely personal and nice. :)
breathing-steady: Yeah, that's what it is: D-X really did feel like home. :)
i want the song!!!!
7366@livejournal.com
Sent! :)
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