I'm not sure what it is, but I am drawn into this blog world, checking out blogs, reading posts, wondering what to write, lamenting the fact there seems to be little between the private self and the public self except (perhaps) a real name & a real hometown. Okay, not so in my case, but with others; that anonymity gives them a chance to say almost anything, to let it all hang out, to share the darkest secrets. Is that really what any of us wants?
It seems to me that some blogs are like personal journals. My hope is that this blog will be something more, something beyond the journals I’ve kept in the past. Last year I kept a journal for a while… and then I came across my journal from freshman year in college, nigh on twenty-some-odd years ago… and I discovered that my journal at the age of 40+ read eerily similar to the journal of eighteen; the names had changed but the themes were the same: existential questions begging for answers which never seem to bubble to the surface.
So now, the city sounds coming through my open window, I am ensconced in front of the computer, fingers dancing over the keyboard, instead of huddled at my writing desk with the solid feel of a Pilot G2 in my hand, ink spilling on acid-free paper.
May I answer more questions than I pose.