I have wanted this blog for a long time. I want to have a place to share my ideas and thoughts and be creative. Writing is much like painting. I am sure that is not an original statement, but I think about it a lot. Words have such power. Words tell stories, and transfer ideas, and evoke emotions. Little words and big extravagant words work together to weave, and coat, and cover.
Wanting to have a blog and being able to actually carry it out are two different things. It is tough to think about your ideas being broadcast into the ether. There is the inevitable possibility that they will be slashed apart and burned before your eyes. The task of organizing your thoughts so that what ends up typed up matches what was running through your head is a difficult and thankless task. Why anyone would write, I have no idea.
I think it's like going to the gym. The pain is somehow pleasant.
The possibility that someone will like what you turn out is always there. It is to feed the ego, it is to feed the soul. It is to answer questions and to learn about the world. Any of us can sit down and type something, but to click post is to invite the world to join in.
Perhaps writing is to paint a picture, but to post to a blog is to throw a dinner party. You invite the world and sit back. Once it goes out there, the guests file in. They find their seats, they sample the prose, contemplate the ideas.
Some look up, satisfied.
Some beg for more, others, throw their plates against the wall and storm out.
Feast with me. Perhaps the menu will satisfy.
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