I had a few reasons for creating this blog and several reasons for skipping the headache altogether. But here I am at 2 a.m. staring at a screen for my first post.
I'll tell you the reasons why I was against creating this blog.
For one, I'm not a fan of blogs. I don't surf the blog roll or whatever it's called when you waste hours disagreeing with someone online. Most blogs I've encountered have been some variation of catharsis, sciolism and self-aggrandizement. It is one person who is shouting into the wind in hopes someone will hear the cries of an inevitably brilliant, sharp-witted individual who just wants what's right. In short, I tend toward sarcasm far too readily.
Since I consider myself entirely uninteresting, I think no one will want to read the awkward outpourings of my angst and frustration. Hell, I've tried to talk myself out of it three times already from sheer boredom.
Finally, I know I'm going to be sporadic at best in updating this damned thing. I'm too moody.
And now, I'll tell you the reasons why this blog was created.
The face of my career is changing and I have to learn to keep up. I work as a page designer for a metro newspaper. Since more people are turning to internet news sources, I must learn to work on the web.
I tend to do this kind of thing anyway. When I was in college, I had a Word document that was really nothing more than a journal of venting. I'd add an entry whenever my passive-aggressive tendency to keep my mouth shut made my head want to explode. It was a way to scream in someone's face without reaping the consequences. So talking to anyone and no one is honestly not very disconcerting at all.
That brings me to the name for this blog. I mean it as a play on words and a frustratingly persistent fact of life. Being as random as I am, plenty of my thoughts are tangential to the rest. There is only one point of connection between each. Most of the time, I'm the only one who gets the connection ... mostly because it's so archaic or obscure it's not worth contemplating. It makes me feel like a Pavlovian experiment in triggers. I've been pre-programmed by pop culture to immediately recall a line from a movie or show at least three times in any given conversation.
At the same time, I'm still stuck on the circle. The tangent keeps going off into uncharted territory while I'm this annoying little thing caught in the cycle. I'm one point on an infinite scale. I wouldn't be missed if I wasn't there, but I can't get off. Everything about my life feels like it's going around in a circle to the point where I'm beginning to believe there really is no such thing as coincidence. And it's extraordinarily mundane.
I had a friend compare me to Woody Allen, and that seemed so insultingly true that he had to be right. An actor I have very little regard for is just as ridiculous as I. I try to be resistant to how life can be simplified to cloyingly rhythmic clichés and at the same time unable to find an explanation that contains more truth. We are what we eat. Hindsight really is 20/20. Time invariably heals all wounds. This is my hell, my Hallmark brand quip that refuses to die no matter how overused and trite it has become. Damnit!
So, since a number of writers were madder than hatters, I might as well get used to ranting and raving before the men in white coats come knocking on my door.
Enjoy.
