I Blog, Therefore I Am

There is no doubt that I am here, right now. I am alive. I am well. I do not plan on going anywhere, figuratively speaking. Well, literally, too, but I won’t be sitting at my desk at the time you read this. What I am saying is that I am still young, and I have no plans of abandoning this Earth.

But my plans aren’t that relevant to the greater order of the Universe. Whether or not there is a Grand Plan doesn’t matter as much as the fact that there is Order and Chaos in the Universe. Order and Chaos stand in opposition to one another yet complement each other beautifully. The result is Balance.

Balance may or may not care what I want. I mean, I can give input, but that doesn’t guarantee a thing. Whether or not one believes in a sentience behind the madness the is the physical manifestation of the Universe isn’t relevant. What matters is that my plan may not necessarily dovetail with the delicate interplay between Order and Chaos. I will get stepped on as the cosmic dancers go about their eternal waltz. It’s just a matter of when.

When I returned from a trip back in August of 2007, I found out that a friend of mine had passed away. He was young, just 43 years old. His name was Mike Wieringo. To say he was a friend in the conventional sense isn’t entirely accurate. You see, I never met Mike. I never spoke to him. I never really corresponded with him. I sent him a note once or twice, but I never got (nor expected a reply). Mike was an artist. I knew of his work in comics, and I was a huge fan. I visited his website religiously. I was often frustrated at how infrequently it was updated. Then, once day, Mike added a blog to his site, and everything changed.

Mike made it a habit of posting often. He’d write about anything and everything. Sometimes he’d write about a project he was working on. Sometimes he’d write about personal things. He went through a period where he found old sketches from when he was a kid and updated them with his adult skills. He wondered whether he was good enough. He shared moments of doubt, moments of triumph, moments of joy. For all intents and purposes, Mike was my friend.

Mike died suddenly. It was a shocked, and it chills me to this day to remember how I felt when I heard of his passing. At that point, I had been visiting Mike online for years. YEARS. He part of my nightly ritual. I always checked in to see what he was up to. Sometimes, I can’t believe it has been over two years. I still miss him, although I stopped going to his site long ago. You see, his brother left the site exactly as Mike left it. If you go there, you’ll see his last post. To the right, there’s a heading entitled “‘Ringo 1963-2007.” Under that is says “Remembrances.” I’ll leave it at that. You can visit the site at http://www.mikewieringo.com/.

Of course, a piece of Mike lives on in everyone he touched, but there is this other part of Mike…this odd sort of relic of the information age…that continues to live on in it’s own way. It is a strange, strange thing to stumble on the blog of someone who has died. These blogs are voices of the living…daily reminders that we are here. But, Mike isn’t here. Yet his blog lives on. Someday, as is the case with all human endeavors, even Mike’s blog will disappear. It has the potential to live on for what may seem like infinity, but that’s just an illusion. Another illusion.

Mike blogged. There is proof that he was here. He may not have contemplated this during his lifetime, but blogging was proof to all of those who read his words that Mike Wieringo, the man, shared this Earth with us. For now, anyway, Mike Wieringo will lives.

I blog, therefore I am.