But maybe there’s a third possibility. Last night, while I was waiting for the cup of warm Milo to take effect, an [...]]]> I am 56. Sometimes it feels like 57. Too old to blog, some may say. Others may suggest I’m too old to do anything but blog. There is no shortage of critics in cyberspace.

But maybe there’s a third possibility. Last night, while I was waiting for the cup of warm Milo to take effect, an apparition emerged from the spare USB port in my laptop – a Steve Jobs like figure with a Stephen Hawking voice and Bette Davis eyes. The virtual being gently touched my arm, drank the rest of the Milo, then spoke in soft but earnest tones.

‘No, Graeme, you are not too old to blog. In fact, blog you must, for your blogging will empower others of senior years to blog, too. You have been chosen as the role model for wrinkly non-bloggers who want to convert … who want to cross over … who want to come thundering out of the closet of bloglessness.’

So here I am, on a mission – apparently. Very soon, before you can say ‘God’s Waiting Room’, blogging will sit alongside moaning as the favourite pastime of the elderly. In retirement villages and nursing homes across the land, new Tag Clouds are about to be formed, with ‘Incontinence’ and ‘Centrelink’ jumping out at you in 36 point font, from the sidebar of senility.

I have decided to blog as a safer alternative to trekking the Kokoda Trail or marrying Greg Norman. Right now, Greg is typically topical, with Kokoda being more tropically topical. Which brings me to the beauty of the online world – it lets us play with space and time, instantly connecting minds around the globe and delivering the present moment to our Twitter stream. The value of all that is yet to be determined.

I blog, therefore I am. ‘Am what?’ That is the question. (As opposed to, ‘To tweet or not to tweet’, which would have been the question, had Shakespeare lived a few extra years.)

So I leave you with this query: ‘Who am I?’ now that I have a blog, plus a Twitter account, Linkedin, Facebook and grey hair. Personally, I have no idea who I am – or will become – because of this new technology.

Perhaps by blogging, I’ll find out. Before the nursing home beckons.

Cheers!