Life, the Universe and Everything

This pretty much makes it official. I have now allowed the 21st century to consume my soul. After YEARS of successfully avoiding the Intra-web and Cell-u-lur Audio Mobile Car Phones and TeeVooo, there is nothing that remains of my 20th century mortal coil. I am, in every conceivable way, as guilty of being a cyber-essence as anyone else now.
That is fine, though. It echoes where I am in my life. Lost in an unceasing, unviewable void. Knowing not where I am going or exactly why. But I go on. I am but a spirit searching desperately to return to a body. For now, I am only light and electrons. And so I go on.
I feel as though I am Descartes' Dream. If sensory experience and our memory of it is reality as we define it, then I feel as though I can no longer tell where the dream ends and life begins. I am a continuous series of thoughts, ideas and memories bound to Earth only by my name and the perceptions of others. And so I go on.
Bound, but not yet broken.
Searching, but not yet wholly lost.
I turn at this point in my life to a re-exploration of writing. Man's greatest source of cathartic realease. I turn to it as an anchor. A method by which I might stay grounded, while learning not to be afraid of where the wind may take me.
And so it begins. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
Happy New Year.