I don’t think i’ll go much into political postings...but this photo...man there is just something about it.
The boarded-up window of a discount store in Peckham, south London, displays hundreds of notes sending out a message of peace.
…in owning a blog where you have to ask. Why would anyone read this?
Generation Y, or Echo Boomers as Wikipedia likes to call us is obsessed with over sharing. We firmly believe we have a million interesting thoughts running through our mind all day and simply can’t wait to key them down and hit send on them to the world. For me it all started with ICQ – remember that? Each time the UH-OH high pitch sound went off I knew I was in for an exciting message of sorts from friends. Then the chat rooms began to explode – Oh don’t act like you never went on one. Seriously! Before it became hunting ground for the slightly deranged and just all sorts of weird, it was a fun place to get together and chat about your favourite shows, your favourite sports team, your favourite Buffy the Vampire Slayer character!!!! Team Xander!!!! ……….What? Then MSN became all the rage, MY SPACE, Twitter, and then the bulldozer that is Facebook took over. I jumped ship on social networking somewhere in between MSN v.8 and My Space becoming a hipsters haven. I still don’t fully understand why I ever abandoned it, but I guess at some point it began to feel strange to me. I was almost done with University and realizing that I was spending more time on my laptop talking to my friends through the use of a keyboard, than actually with my friends, enjoying the face to face interaction. So one day I packed up my metaphorical bags filled with emoticons, witty screen names, and friend invites and simply walked away from it all. I never looked back. I can be quite judgmental, I’m old enough to admit that now. Sometimes even snobby. Therefore I considered myself above it all. I didn’t need the voyeuristic attention of Facebook friends, nor did I need to channel all my thoughts into 140 characters on twitter – I was SO much cooler than that.
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Then one day I start a blog. Huh.
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I don’t think I can fully explain that either. I just know I miss writing. I think I used to be good at it – now I just stumble along through misuse of verbs, nouns and proper punctuation. I blame the work email culture. I blame texting and its constant use of slang terminology. LOL is NOT A WORD PEOPLE. And yet I find myself typing it all the time. I also find myself starting sentences with And. Wasn’t that a rule they taught you in high school? when they also taught you to write essays like a hamburger? I can hear it now: The Introduction is the bun, the Body is the Meat, the Conclusion is your other bun. Hmm. If only it were that simple. I digress. At some point I started to miss randomly writing, really missing it. Missing it to the point that I was increasingly frustrated. I missed sharing all my thoughts, I missed keying every emotion I ever had into a blank word document –I’m a Gen Y’r damnit – It’s in me to do this, it’s in my makeup, I’m certain of it. I considered Twitter and realized I would never be successful at putting all of my thoughts into a pre-determined number of characters. So I chose a blog. I don’t believe many will read this, I simply don’t think I’m fascinating enough, nor am I a Justin Bieber fan site. However, this has proved to be a wonderful experience for me. I’m thinking again, really thinking. I’m letting my mind wander when I’m in line at Starbucks, I’m mentally playing with words when I’m sitting in traffic, and I’m reading books a little more attentively again – paying close attention to the schematic arrangement of sentences. I’m enjoying it, it’s fun, it’s like a reunion with a lost friend. Isn’t life funny? friendship, the reason I originally left, is today the reason I’ve returned – to find the long lost friendship I’ve been missing.
But when I go back to the original question: Why would anyone read this?
The answer is, I don’t know. I’ve owned a blog for 2 days, and the truth is I just don’t know. But I know why I’m writing it, and I kinda, sorta like it.
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Robert Frost
That Frost, a gentleman who endured such personal loss and tragedy can sum it up to those 3 words has always intrigued me. Thank you for something so beautiful and eloquent Mr. Frost.
Always amused by just how pissed this cat looks. Always.
Paramount’s third pass at The Great Gatsby doesn’t exactly have a stellar reputation. But i have to ask, does any other film capture Robert Redford looking more devilshly handsome? No.
I answered that for you just in case you were considering disagreeing with me. He has, as we young kids would say, lots and lots of swagger.
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It makes me giggle. Each and every time.
Has a paris chic vibe. So effortlessly chic.
If only some of us didn’t have to work at it. Hmph!
This post makes me smile, because i never get it right. Been following this blog far before creating my own. He’s a literary genius and completely unaware of it, which makes him the perfect kind.
Some people just need a proof-reader. Some people don’t understand the proper placement of a comma, or a dash— definitely not a semicolon (and let’s not forget the parentheses). It’s that damn, irksome period that eludes us all. A complete thought gets one; an incomplete thought does not.
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Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild.
I have so many favourite books that each time i try to select just one, i become incredibly flustered. This one is so fantastic, it is worth mentioning, and quoting. Into the Wild.
