Apologies to my parents, who are probably better off not knowing that I swear, or drink, or... do the other things that will occasionally be referenced on this blog.
And I'm already on a tangent, but could we have come up with a better word than "blog?" It's such a disgusting word.
So I'm not going to call this my blog. I'm going to call it my journal. Because that's what it is, and it's so much less gross than the word "blog."
I don't really have high expectations for this bl... journal. I'm just going to use it to post about what's going on in my life, how I'm slowly becoming less crazy (writing is the first step, and holy shit you guys, it's so much cheaper than therapy) and share the music or books or art that I find interesting.
So why take it to the Internet?
Because not only is it much more manageable than the half-dozen folders full of Word documents I have, but because even if just one person reads my writing, it's worth it.
My friend Molly says my writing makes her laugh. My friend Paul enjoys my music suggestions. My friend Robin says my writing helps her understand her sexuality. My friend Chris says my writing saved his life.
That's what makes exposing myself to whoever stumbles upon my writing feel right. The embarrassment of my insecurities and actions doesn't matter if somebody laughs or cries, or in Chris's case, decides that maybe, just maybe, there's an alternative to taking a bottle of pain killers and praying for death (which is something Chris should have been able to figure out anyway, but hey, I never accused him of being smart).
So every few days, I'll pull something new and revealing about myself from under my bed to share with the world.
And hopefully have a little fun with music and humor and politics and literature along the way.
Of course, before sharing my journal with the usual venues of Facebook, Twitter, and the like, I'll be sending a link to my parents, who are responsible for raising such a mess of a human being.
Hi Mom! Hi Dad!