Why, Oh, Why?
And it is a glimpse into my head, have no doubt. I find that I am more and more open the more I write here. I know that's not any revelation to anyone. Writing's always been a way to release pent-up feelings and creativity. I just never thought that writing a blog would be this liberating. I can take as much time as I need to get my meaning as clear as possible. I can even go back and edit it if I realize that it's not as clear as I thought it was. Mostly, though, it gives a false sense of anonymity, and that's the really liberating thing about it. I mean, I know my friends and (presumably) my family will read this one day, if not today. It's pretty much a given that they'll stumble across it eventually. But I can sit here at my keyboard at four in the morning and say what I really mean, without having to immediately justify myself to anyone.
True, I am responsible for what I say here, and someday I will have to explain myself to someone somewhere. The nature of what I write about is too...emotionally laden...for me to not have an accounting some time. I'd love to write something as insightful as the stuff over at Pharyngula.org or as hard-hitting as Randi's weekly Commentary, but I'm just not "connected" enough for that. All I can do is respond to the stimuli of my life: family, friends, enemies, co-workers, television, radio, the Internet, etc. etc. etc. So, basically, this blog is about my life and all the people in it. And since I have something to say, I guess I made it public so that those people would know what I had to say. Seems simple enough, right? So, why write about it? Well, blogging has proliferated to the point that you can find blogs about, literally, anything. But they started out as, essentially, online diaries, and I suppose that's what Revolvo Inritus is. The difference is that I REALLY want certain people to read it.
You see, I started this for a plethora of reasons, but mostly I wanted to say things that I couldn't manage to say to people's faces, mostly because they were too emotionally charged to say calmly. I'm pretty sure there wasn't much cowardice involved, but there was a smidge here and there. But there was also a huge helping of self-knowledge. I get worked up about just about everything. It's the nature of the beast, I suppose. I feel passionate about a lot of things, and controlling my passions has never been my strong suit. That can be an advantage, but it's also very much a disadvantage at times. So, here is my blog, where I can say what I think needs saying without that nagging little voice (i.e. my conscience) telling me that I'm going too far. After all, you didn't have to read this article. You don't have to read anything I put on this blog. It's completely voluntary.
However, I will say things that are offensive. I will sound off about my idiot family and my stupid friends. I will talk about that no-good sonuvabitch currently running the Presidency and this country into the ground. But, and here's the kicker, I will also tell you about my goofs and screwups. I will admit my mistakes. I will say I'm sorry, when necessary, hard as that is for me.
That's fair, isn't it?