Before I begin pontificating, I'd like to extend my incredible appreciation to Skankyrich, my Post colleague, without whom this week's issue would definitely not have happened. School takes up more time than you might think when it's weighing in at six hours a day.
Anyway, earlier this week I decided to unsubscribe from Peer Review. I haven't had the time to read and comment on the entries in quite a long time — most days I was just clicking through the conversations without even looking at the title of the entry. I refused to unsubcribe and free up my convo list, though, because that would be admitting to myself that I no longer had the time (or the inclination to make time) for something that was once incredibly important to me.
This Tuesday I will have been a member of h2g2 for three years, and that's a time that's seen a lot of changes both in my roles on the site and in real life. When I joined on 25 September 2004 (lo these many years ago, as my mother would say), I was fourteen years old. Now I'm almost eighteen, almost an adult, and I can't even begin to say how much has changed since then. So perhaps it's understandable that my priorities are changing and that my inclinations are changing. Unsubscribing from Peer Review should really be the least of my worries.
But precisely because h2g2 has been so pivotal to my adolescent development, I felt an enormous sense of guilt as I clicked that fatal button. My conversation list, now largely comprised of friends' journals and Post business, is about a quarter to a third of the length that it once was. I'm decreasing the hold that h2g2 has on my spare time, and I do feel somewhat regretful.
It's like the practically proverbial Hotel California, though. You can check out of h2g2, but you can never leave. Whatever my duties on the site, it will still always be hovering in the background, a bookmarked conversation window waiting to be opened and checked. I've seen so many other Researchers float around over the years, popping from background to foreground and back again, that it's hardly surprising that I should be experiencing these feelings now.
Anyway, whatever my emotional quandaries, you all have a duty to submit things to The Post! The deadline for the 4 October issue is Sunday, 30 September. Thanks, and enjoy this week's edition of The Post!
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