…I appear to have started a blog. Just like nearly everyone else with an internet connection EVER, I’ve tried this before. And then life and school get busy, and it languishes on the internet until I delete it some months later in frustration.
But not this time, internets.
The paper journal I carry around has been weighing me down, and it looks like total crap. The pages are stuffed with odds and sods; notes and news clippings and god knows what else. The spine is held together with duct tape, and the cover is all warped from that time my water bottle exploded in my backpack. And I could buy a new one, but hell, I’ve got a whole shelf of those, so I thought I’d give this a try. I can always delete it, and pretend this never even happened.
In some ways, the idea of a blog smacks of vanity to me. It makes me think of a Tanya Davis poem:
“I think of the significance of my opinions here,
is it significant to be giving them, does anybody care?
Just because I’m into this does that mean I should live like it
and really, do I dare?”