A New Mission

This probably isn’t necessary because nobody is really listening. But even if this post is just the internet equivalent to talking into a mirror, it will serve its purpose.

This will be the 81^st post to my blog, which is what I did not want to call my blog when I first started my blog. The 80^th post was about two weeks ago or so.

When I first started writing on the internet (or maybe to the internet) I had some pretentions. I didn’t want to just “blog,” I wanted to write. I wanted to hone the craft of writing and thereby gain some level of attention for my skill and wit and ideas. That was maybe 6 months ago.

What I found at the start was the writing came easy. It’s like what music critics say about a band’s first album (something even I wrote about). The thoughts collected over the first few decades of the musician’s lifetime just burst out. It’s easy for them to create the music. And (for the most part) it sounds pretty good. But then the second album comes around, and it’s not so easy.

I’ve been thinking about things for my entire life. I sit. I’m quiet. I watch people, things, the world and I think. I’m the kid who sits alone in the cafeteria and seems entertained, the person who can sit in the backseat of a moving car with nothing but a view through a window and never feel bored. I think. I think all the time.

I thought this blog would be a release for those thoughts, a place to get them off of my chest and out of my head. Maybe this would lighten my mental load. Or maybe it would enrich it.

But I had pretentions. I wanted to be a writer, a journalist, not some stuck-up college kid who turns the internet into a personal diary. My writings, my work, had to be good and edited and thoughtful and thought provoking. There were word counts and revisions. There were imaginary, made-up and meaningless deadlines. It had to deal with issues and culture and high-mindedness or something. But then all that stuff became boring and tedious and forced.

It turns out I’m a stuck-up college trying to turn the internet into a personal diary. And I guess I expect people to read it. I don’t know why, but I do. I have the same arrogance that the average twitterer or instagrammer does. People care about the shit that I think or consume or experience. My life is important and people care about it and my blog (or twitter account or instagram account) only serves to satiate the people’s insatiable desire to know more about me.

So there’s a new mission for my blog, which is now just a blog and not some attempt to showcase what is probably my nonexistent talent for writing. It’s going to be about me, and my thoughts. I think things are weird, many of the things we take for granted being incomprehensibly weird…whatever. You’ll hear about it.

Maybe I’m just talking because I need to, to hear myself, to know I exist outside of my mind, to expel some vomitus bile from the depths of my subconscious.

Maybe I’m just talking.