Posts Tagged ‘blogging’

As most of you know, this blog site is an emotional journal, couched in satire. in other words, an actual rendering without the actual bullets.

It’s also an integral part of what gets me through life.

I “process” honestly, conveying feelings and ideas when and how they occur to me. Of course, they have to be strong enough or they never hit the page, which is why some of them freak you out.

See, you never get this on the streets, and when you do, it’s usually in the form of road rage.

With this in mind, what would be the point in sugar-coating life at middle age when you know damn well it’s not. Furthermore, what would be the point in your reading something you couldn’t learn something from?

Yes, this is what life looks and feels like from my perspective, but the angst is not uncommon.

For the reader it helps connect the dots; to paint a more complete portrait, and thus, make sense of life through one man’s eyes.

If it gets a little heavy, put it on pause.

It’s like a drama without television commercials, which often requires a cigarette break.

Blogging for me is truth siphoned through persona, and a lot less expensive then therapy, in spite of the fact that I still go. So, obviously it’s working…

……..

Blogging is essentially a living journal of a life, whether it’s couched as fantasy or not.

They’re both connected, anyway.

Even when the blog in question involves sports or politics, the same applies.

Some prefer scapegoats, which I get.

Anyway, as my moods change, the tone and direction of the words change along with them. They’re never intended to be completed manuscripts, but rather the raw vagaries of an emotionally active life, which I am able to share instantly.

That’s the hook: the instant sharing.

Sometimes the terrain is more forgiving and the tone more subtle and suggestive, while other times it’s closer to planetary annihilation.

This aside, it’s not money or fame or glamour or any of the superficial crap that people fantasize when the subject of sharing anything publicly comes up, though I do have a problem with people stealing my lines and then publishing them under another name. It’s out there for anyone to read.

Nonetheless, every post feels like a mini exorcism.

And it’s not like everything in my head feels like demonic possession, but the need to share it does, which is why I’m better off living in the 21st century than the 16th century without an internet connection.

If I died today my words would be floating out here in cyberspace as a testament to a life lived honestly, no matter what it may look like to anyone else, including my detractors; those big bad witches who like beating up on this hopelessly romantic, love-starved little puppy.