You know it's a damn shame thinking that maybe 30 years ago if one were to convey his or her thoughts, be it for only the self or possibly for public solicitation, they would turn to the mighty pen rather than the mighty Pentium. Grasping leather bound pages, or in most circumstances small pieces of parchment, peasants and poets alike would sit by candle light and immerse themselves in exactly that, their own "self" in relation to their own world. Your desk and chair had no sooner become a confessional when you truly begin to appreciate the importance of release; in most cases literary deification. On that note we come to one of the more attractive words in the Oxford Dictionary, the blog. I dare anyone to say such a word and not feel like some cross-bred English bulldog; if ever there were a time for botox! Where are my real house wives of Southern Ontario!?
I am not particularly happy that I am currently blogging. If I didn't know any better I had done plenty of blogging on most Sunday mornings or following a lovely meal at Guelph University; I never knew grilled chicken would make a young man run to the toilet like a chicken with it's head cut off, it must be retribution from beyond the poultry graveyard! That being said, this was all a recommendation, a suggestion. For God only knows that my eager ways with the locals could eventually leave gaping holes in my memory, leaving its appearance to be no less fragmented than the body of our ever-persistent Coyote as he finds himself on the other end of some lit ACME-grade TNT. So before you thank me for posting such wonderfully articulate, joyful and definitely not cynical...blogs...thank my mother and grandmother. They may be the first shake their heads and look solely to the sky and ask 'why?', but they are the first to encourage and laugh at my colourful array of misfortunes and adventures.
The irony in all of this is I could have easily gone to some stationary store and bought a journal that even Wordsworth would be proud of . And even more I could sit in the shade looking out over some pastoral scene. But I couldn't use all these fancy fonts and crazy effects! Gee-golly mom, look at me now! Also, now that I think of it, consciously it must have just dawned on me that no one would be able to read all my passionate and worldly thoughts if they were stuck in some stupid book! Well I hope you've found some humour in the fact that after courageously defending a traditional form of written catharsis, I have only led myself to the less than reputable and appreciated form that is...the blog. Seriously, feel your tongue as you say that word.
While these entries may not have the same scandalous undertones as Virginia Woolfe's diary, with all her talk of the Bloomsbury set and her constant thinking of things 'outside the box', they may still hold some value. The world is there to be seen by eyes that are in turn changed forever by such apparitions. This blog is merely a vessel for my changing perspective on this world; what I have perfected and what has affected me, who I empathize with and who I truly grow envious of, what scares me and what scars me, what enlightens me and what I can bring light to.
Subscriptions are limited, so get it while it's hot and steamy! My illustrious blog has begun and in true form this first posting is merely a justification or an attempt to justify why I have made the decision to start it in the first place.
Salut, Cheers and Slainte!