I wuz heer and now I'm there
Have I mentioned that I'm pretty much useless? I haven't written a lot, here -- but I've written enough to repeat myself, from time to time. I'm pretty sure I haven't mentioned my masterful ineffectualness before. I don't do much, in general. Maybe I do about as much as the average guy; I've discovered over the years that I'm just average enough to melt into the pablum of society, so I'm typically safe in assuming that I'm suffering from the same pox of mediocrity that most people bear.
This comes to mind because my readership on this blog has recently exploded by 100% -- or 50%, if you count me. I've given you enough math to figure that one out. In a recent discussion with my new readership, I was asked the question,. regarding this blog "Does anyone else read it?" I said, "No," although I actually have no idea. But I'd say, the chances are likely that my quick assertion is correct -- which is what gave me pause. Why do I do this? Why does anyone keep a journal or diary? I kept a journal from 1984 to 1986 and have just about every day documented. It's nice to have that around, because I quickly forget the details of my day-to-day life. We all do, I suppose.
But journals and diaries are locked away, far from the public eye -- probably kept where family members can find them after we're six feet under. Those documents are indelible, hopefully persistent marks we painfully mediocre people will leave behind and hopefully, our families will give a shit enough to read them. Otherwise, we mediocre, anonymous folks will simply vanish. We might leave traces behind, like children or donations to charity, or just an assload of personal possessions to be sold at auction after we croak. But few of us leave our most personal possession behind, the most precious thing we all have: Our voices. That's what a journal, diary, and blog are for. This is the voice of the average, the voice of the mediocre.
Even if no one cares to hear, it's here. A blog is a public journal. I've put my voice out there, scrawled on the busy, endless walls of the Internet. Maybe I think my family won't give a shit about the journals and they'll be used in the fireplace as kindling. I can't say exactly why I use this medium for my little writing exercise. Why does anyone?
This is not a screed, as many of my other posts are -- and not nearly as funny. Since my readership has expanded, I went back and read some of the old posts, because I forget what I've written. It had me laughing out loud at some of the wry comments and strained, but funny metaphors. I guess that's what this is all about. I'm inviting anyone out there to come in and do a little tour of my thoughts, but wear your boots. Sometimes it's deep and it smells a little.
Here, I'm not just a number, or a quiet extra in the movie of life. I'm a voice -- and that's how we truly leave our marks. Not with possessions, nick-knacks or money... but with words and thoughts that shape the thoughts and words of those around us. And here I am, on this very public medium. Perhaps not to be read by a stranger for many years to come, but know that I was here and with you reading this, I've become part of you. That's what this is all about.
This comes to mind because my readership on this blog has recently exploded by 100% -- or 50%, if you count me. I've given you enough math to figure that one out. In a recent discussion with my new readership, I was asked the question,. regarding this blog "Does anyone else read it?" I said, "No," although I actually have no idea. But I'd say, the chances are likely that my quick assertion is correct -- which is what gave me pause. Why do I do this? Why does anyone keep a journal or diary? I kept a journal from 1984 to 1986 and have just about every day documented. It's nice to have that around, because I quickly forget the details of my day-to-day life. We all do, I suppose.
But journals and diaries are locked away, far from the public eye -- probably kept where family members can find them after we're six feet under. Those documents are indelible, hopefully persistent marks we painfully mediocre people will leave behind and hopefully, our families will give a shit enough to read them. Otherwise, we mediocre, anonymous folks will simply vanish. We might leave traces behind, like children or donations to charity, or just an assload of personal possessions to be sold at auction after we croak. But few of us leave our most personal possession behind, the most precious thing we all have: Our voices. That's what a journal, diary, and blog are for. This is the voice of the average, the voice of the mediocre.
Even if no one cares to hear, it's here. A blog is a public journal. I've put my voice out there, scrawled on the busy, endless walls of the Internet. Maybe I think my family won't give a shit about the journals and they'll be used in the fireplace as kindling. I can't say exactly why I use this medium for my little writing exercise. Why does anyone?
This is not a screed, as many of my other posts are -- and not nearly as funny. Since my readership has expanded, I went back and read some of the old posts, because I forget what I've written. It had me laughing out loud at some of the wry comments and strained, but funny metaphors. I guess that's what this is all about. I'm inviting anyone out there to come in and do a little tour of my thoughts, but wear your boots. Sometimes it's deep and it smells a little.
Here, I'm not just a number, or a quiet extra in the movie of life. I'm a voice -- and that's how we truly leave our marks. Not with possessions, nick-knacks or money... but with words and thoughts that shape the thoughts and words of those around us. And here I am, on this very public medium. Perhaps not to be read by a stranger for many years to come, but know that I was here and with you reading this, I've become part of you. That's what this is all about.
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