Friday, September 17, 2004

24 turned 25

It's a funny thing, unpacking and packing at the same time. While I'm opening boxes from the Montana move, my parents are moving to a new house in Wisconsin (not much of a move; it's the house next door). Packing and unpacking unearths lots of old memories for me. You see, I'm a pack rat by nature, and love opening long forgotten boxes and surprising myself with old letters and papers. It's good for me. Like pineapple, only dusty and sometimes coffee stained.

This blog has lost its focus as of late. Writing things from Montana, to people far away, was the whole reason I began blogging in the first place. To be honest, this blog never had much of a focus to begin with. Just an odd (and rarely updated) collection of what was on my mind at any given time. But I've grown weary of the "wow, i just saw a beautiful sunset" of "man, sometimes god seems so far away" posts that I've put up in the past. There's a time and place for that, but I don't think it's here anymore.

The first option is to just drop it. It served it's purpose while I was out, and now that I'm back, let it be what it was, and rest. But I can't quite seem to let it go. It's a bit addicting, as any blogger will tell you, and I've no desire to give it up just like that. So what do I write about?

Going through a box of papers from school gave me the idea. This little blog can became what I might have meant for it to be in the first place, but never got around to doing. Namely, a new reflection on things I've already thought about. I went to college for five years, and took mostly classes where the emphasis was on writing and reflecting on ideas; not simply on observations or data or presentations or performances. Over the course of those years, I came away with a worldview, and all the opinions that go along with it.

Of course, my papers are extremely boring and pseudo-intellectual, unfit for normal reading. I put them up on my website originally, just to say I'm a self-publisher, eventually realizing just how stodgy they really were. The old website has since been scrapped, becoming a blog to keep in tough with friends (mostly kids) back in Montana. So this blog, I think, is the perfect place to modify all those old thoughts and ideas, giving whoever reads this thing a better glimpse into who I am as a person -- just how exactly my mind works, or more specifically, what it works on.

Though I've written poetry, I've never been particularly good poet, let alone an average one. There have been times when that's all I really wanted, but it's just not meant to be. So I've got to stop blogging like I'm Walt Whitman or W.S. Merwin or fill-in-the-blank with whoever you prefer. So tomorrow, or whenever I get my lazy butt into gear, we'll see what was important enough for me to write over the last six or seven years, reaching back into high school if I can find some of those things. I can't wait. I'm sure you can, however, but don't let me know that. Just nod your head and smile politely. But don't be so polite that you fail to disagree with what I'm writing. Tear it aparts if you want! Tell me how you really feel. All three of you. And that dog over there, too. I'm not racist.

No really, I'm not.

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