350 episodes. 144 in the main line series; started April 2nd, 2012. 183 episodes in the Dog Days of Podcasting; started August 1st, 2012. We spoke about NaNoWriMo 25 times, the first time being back in the before-fore of November 1st, 2011. And like 5 other episodes of various mini things here and there. Oh, and 2 hidden episodes somewhere in that bunch.
It took two weeks to reconcile all of that; updating formats, making sure everything had a picture, and that links still worked and adhered to new styles. Coming out on the other side of that molehill, I’ve got to admit, I’m proud if not a little confused.
I’m of mixed minds when it comes to viewing the shadow of my past. On one hand, I’m proud of the good things she’s done along the way. There’s a sense of joy in her journey, the little mini-projects, the connections, the voices she shared. The successful Dog Days and the ambition around those themes are especially bright stars in that murmuring shade. But I’m also annoyed with her. That she didn’t appreciate where she was, the goods she was gifted, and the things she promised and didn’t deliver. I think a lot of that annoyance comes from age, from wisdom, and from shame.
A great deal has happened in those twelve years. Jobs lost, friends made and lost to time, milestones sweeping by at a radical pace that was hard to fully chronicle. Even more, I know who she is now. She’s not perfect, she’s disabled, she’s tired, and she’s trying. There’s a sense of desire that echoes through each series, and each apology and promised recording isn’t an attempt to make an excuse. It’s an attempt to fly. It’s a jolt away from the trunk to the edge of the branch to the sky. And most of the time she crashed down into the underbrush, disheveled, leaves in her hair, and a booboo on her knee. And each time she’d grab the trunk again, climb up over the weeks, months, and occasionally years (1,003 days in the longest empty between episodes), and leap again on simple syndication wings.
And that’s what’s happening again now.
I want to fly again.
I’ve climbed the trunk. I’m scared of how high up we are, and how tired I am. I’m scared of failing and falling again.
But by being here, by writing this out, I’m moving to that branch.
And I’m leaping to fly.
I’m Tyr Animer. Welcome back to the Hiddennode.
Hold back gently on the joystick to glide.
