I can't believe I'm blogging.
But, then, is that really true?
Aren’t we all, deep down, deliciously wanting to be voyeurs, without a court trial attached; those always take up so much time. What we want is to break a law and get away with it. That’s all blogging is, really, an acceptably broken law; windows made of words for the rest of us Peeping Toms to look at. Nobody minds it; no, instead, it’s encouraged.
Besides, isn’t there something just too alluring about showing a little “skin” to the Peeping Toms, to the entire web-viewing world about how you feel, on any particular subject: racism, nudity, Republicans, orange juice, how to keep pests off squash, pornography, banned books?
Your answer to this is of course. And, so that means that this, right here, this small blog against the millions, is really what America is about, or better yet: what America is becoming.
Now, I know a lot about a very little, admittedly, but that is all I need to grab a blank webpage and start typing; it’s what I’m doing right now with my blatant overuse of semicolons, ellipses, and don’t think that’s where it’s gonna stop – I fully intend to abuse dashes, capital letters, colloquialisms. What are you gonna do about? Comment? Go ahead. That’s the point.
Maybe someone will read my blog and tell me how wrong I am, how belittling my opinion appears to be; that it drives them batty how I don’t even have to use grammar correctly. I hope they do. Having taught Compositon in college for several years, it’s a great relief to ignore the rules of grammer. There’s too much structure in education anyway, don’t you agree? (Personally, I think I’m still a traditionalist, if slightly leaning towards liberalism, in language – but I mean, hell, look at your last text message: DNT 4GET 2 B @ MTG @ 3. DRX L8). I don’t want to admit it, but I know what that means. DNT U? LOL. Or, as I’m beginning to see more often, HE HE.
I hate this shift in linguistics, for a starter point, but I defend it, and if I defend, I must condone it, to some degree, which could mean, maybe I don’t hate it, after all. There are so few places left in the American worldview where freedom of speech is so rarely challenged, at least in legalese. (I’m sure I’ll get a challenge to that). But blogging, texting, it’s the future. And it’s already put its roots down in places like Mississippi, where I live, so that’s pretty much a guarantee of longevity. We should realize this: even though now that misspelling words doesn’t alter meaning as much as we’d tried to scare past generations into believing, there are still dangers: people tend to put a lot more stock in what they read as accurate or true than what they hear. And, for those of us who call ourselves bloggers, we, perhaps, assume some of that responsibility.
But, for my blog, please, take note: there may be ounces, grams, teardrops of truth in what I write, or state, or opine, etc., but most of the time I’m more concerned about the humor beneath the truth. That’s the real connective tissue. Truths as they happen in this world are mostly relative, but humor, humor is universal; it transcends truth…and often comes at the expense of relatives, or relativity.
And, that’s really where my focus lies. Or, at least, will attempt to lie. (Dig a little deeper in that sentence until your shovel hits the pun. There’s one there).
A truth of mine: I’ve always, gut-deep, wanted to be a writer, and I try, still…a poem or two here, a play thrown over there, and so on, but blogging…if I can really stick with it – because I’m not, I repeat, I’m not what you’d call a very disciplined writer, I’m an inspired writer (read: procrastinates until some unique idea burrows into my conscience and won’t let go). And so, saying, you should sit down and write for awhile, everyday, has become more like a really good philosophy and excellent theory to share/proselytize with/to other writers over martinis or in between cocktail weinies (and no, I didn’t mean for that to rhyme) to appear more wizened than they are and thus, more productive which means a “better writer,” but, in reality, it’s less likely to become an actuality for me. Which makes me far less than those earnest writers who listen to me blather on about the craft itself.
Hopefully, this will change. But here’s why it’s been such an issue for me: 1) writers need to, much like an actor, play hide and seek with gratification; the “hiding” comes in waiting for someone to acknowledge our worth and say Yes, this should be published and read by the world – the “seeking” comes, rarely for most of us, but comes when publication actually happens. Sure, sure, we write because it’s an obsession, it’s an obligation, but the other half of that obsessive obligation is in the sharing, in the recognition. Please, please, we beg, read what I’ve written and talk to me about it, tell me I’m worthy of the written word. That’s validating, and that’s a, no the, sad commentary for those of us in the arts; and 2) editorial intrusion is as much a part of the writing process as the fact that words put in a logical order with corresponding subjects, verbs, and modifiers create a sentence, which leads to understanding, which is a cornerstone of a civilized people. It is impossible for me to “permit” myself to write uninhibited by my own internal editor. I monitor every syllable to the point that I, well, often miss the point of writing.
So, blogging, for me, I hope will allow me the opportunity to write without internal criticism, to purge my mind of extraneous thoughts and share those, in their pure, raw, unchiseled form. Seems ridiculous, doesn’t it, since many will judge me by what I leave here, on this blog, but at the same time, those many will also see reflections of themselves; perhaps not in what I say, but in that I say it all…as is.
We all secretly wish we kept journals. We all silently like to believe that whatever we have to say is immediately important, without revision, a la Ginsberg, and you know what? Maybe it is…no, no, of course it is. Because in that off-handed comment, in that over-the-shoulder greeting, in that “of this moment” conversation, in that shared joke, in the cruelty of social grazing, is not just truth, even by the ounceful, but is the actual process of how we think and what we think. Aside from judgment, which no one escapes, there’s also a healthy amount of courage…in saying the right thing, the witty thing, the wrong thing, the stupid thing, the thing we all think but can’t say, whether it be a synaptic misfire, a faux pas, a foot-in-mouth incident, or, just the God’s honest “truth.”
We’ve all been there. We just wish we hadn’t been, or that we had a second chance to explicate, or had been the one to say it in the first place, to elaborate, to erase, to re-write history, or to be “born again” in that moment, even after the moment…and, well, we can do that now, thanks to blogging.
At least, that’s what I’m going to think, to believe….that’s how I’m going to approach this exercise in dialogue, even if I can only use my fingers to do the talking.
There’s ten of them, and that’s like nine more than my mouth.