First of all I have to say that I hate “blog”, not the concept but the word itself.
I can’t remember when I first heard this word but I can probably guess my reaction when I did.
“What a tragedy,” I must have thought “there appears to have been a blog, I hope they clear it away soon and that no one was hurt.”
What I’m saying is that the word doesn’t immediately avail its meaning.
It brings to mind various forms of deep sea creatures blogged on the ocean floor, crustaceans and such.
It sounds like a problem that you would need to call a plumber to fix.
It’s the noise a 50kg, 60-something, female ex-librarian named Agnes would make if she was to fall out of a forth storey window onto a passing parade of bakers carrying pies, cakes and treats.
I’ve had a negative attitude towards the word ever since.
It was a while until I finally learned its meaning which was no more than a diary, a journal which you write but instead of keeping it under your pillow or in a secret drawer, you put it up as a billboard on the information supper highway where you hope all the people whizzing by will see it and yell “lol” or some other web obscenity; then proceed to tell their friends about it and they pull around for a turn.
Why write a blog?
It’s been done before by everyone including his mother and I’m not usually a follow suit sort of person. Considering how fast the internet changes, having a blog is almost old fashioned, but here we are.
Why should I inflict my thoughts upon the world, people have enough problems as it is.
What could I write about that hasn’t been written before by people much more interesting and smarter than me and in more interesting ways.
The truth is that I’m afflicted by a condition known as “toomanywordsinmyheadiasis”. Thousands of words have been locked up too long inside my head and they are getting restless. They need to be set free, they have cause too much damage, killed too many brain cells. They wonder around in there aimlessly; clogging up my synapses and jamming up my nerve connections. My only remedy is to gather them all together, place them in pleasant company and send them on their way into the cold and cruel world.
Only by giving birth to these “mind babies” will my thoughts become free and clear.
This is my first born.
I cant tell if it’s a boy or a girl.
It’s short, confused and ugly but I like it.
I sing to it “Happy Birthday” and promise some siblings to keep it company.