Like Chalk on the Highway

Is it just me or does the dizzying array of passwords and entry points into cyber space just completely undermine the intentional aspect of creating some record of one's brief existence on this spinning fragment of rock and organic matter? This blog, that blog, this email account, that Twitter account, multiple identities, multiple web sites, a Facebook friend, a Pay'Pal', a tweet....good lord, I feel like I am running full tilt on a boat on a huge lake skipping a bag of indescript stones into the water with some hope that when they fall to the bottom, some crawfish or catfish or wayward diver will wander upon it and say "bbbrrblll, hmmm". Or perhaps a terrestrial metaphor is more suitable...it is as if my digitial etchings are like a bag of chalk hanging like a sack of potatoes behind my Hyundai Santa Fe scraping the pavement at various intervals: haphazard in their location, evanescent markings barely visible in contrast to the consistent yellow striping that sometimes appears to be the only real signpost of consequence. You stay on your side, I'll stay on mine, and never the twain shall meet. I suppose there can be a way to use all this technology to better depict the songlines of our respective journeys; as yet, I haven't found it.