Francis W. Porretto responds to that Vent (#811) about the “unauthorized autobiography,” and he’s not at all the sort to throw things against the wall to see what sticks:
A journal of any sort is an incomplete record of the keeper’s mental life: the things that have stimulated him to think consciously enough about them to be aware of that fact, and that have struck him as significant enough to be worth recording. Thus, what he chooses to put in it is easily interpreted as a record of his priorities at various times in his life.
Having written the above, I realize that my Web writing could give anyone who never knew me in the flesh an entirely incorrect impression. Yes, the things I post about here are important to me, but there are many things far more important to me that have not appeared here and never will. In that sense, my Web writings have never been “about me,” as the blog format was originally expected to be used. They’ve been about those subjects in which others might take an equal interest: public affairs rather than private ones. And so it shall remain.
Just don’t assume that I don’t have a private life. I keep it private; that’s all.
FWP’s stance is, I suspect, closer to the blogospheric norm; I’ve often, and not necessarily in jest, complained that the stuff I churn out, charitably described by some as “eclectic,” in fact merely lacks focus. My priorities at this time, apart from not dying, are distinctly fuzzy. And the difference between us is inevitably reflected in our careers. He’s an engineer, a term which positively exudes seriousness; I’m much more the BOFH.