Despite appearances to the contrary you just don't become a blogger over night. It takes years of practice and preparation. You have to earn your spot in the trenches of complete anonymity in order to earn a shot at near complete anonymity. Here was my path to blogging greatness:
I cut my teeth on poetry. A sample began:
Ain't kilt no one yet.
Something called Profs Notes was the preferred corporate communication before Lotus Notes. In the days of Profs, fellow conscriptees would pass notes under the barrack walls, bonding over our shared juvenility. [Warning, rough language ahead.] Example:
"In one of the ironies of [this company] you might notice when next riding the 'vadors [elevators] that if you say only the first syllable of every other word in the phrase that appears therein, namely, "Press alarm button for assistance." you get 'Press butt ass', a bit redundant I know."1998-Present:
Reply by fellow conscript: "Hmmmmmmm, and if you say only the first syllable of every word, you get 'Press all butt for ass.' Seems kinda' blatenly obvious, eh?"
Reply by another conscript: "If you get on the elevators at [company name] and say out loud what I am usually thinking, you will get "f*ck. f*ck. F*CK.!!!"
Began a private journal. Equal parts exaggeration and lamentation with a twist of self-pity. Shaken, not stirred. Example:
[On moving from the first home I'd owned]: My house is like a gunfighter, making his last stand. He’s there with his Colt rifle, standing in the aging sun, a bit sad that it has to come to this. I’m a bit sad, too, in that all the creature-comforts I’ve built up will be ripped suddenly and new ones will have to be stitched in the garment of life. The comforts I think of include the short drive to work, the cavernous book room downstairs, the 2-minutes to Kroger, the ancient and crusty (pun noted) Antolino’s pizza tradition...Yes, I can’t kid myself, it will be tough. I’m ready though, and now I freefall like Van Halen, singing ‘might as well jump’.One of the things I like about blogging is the low expectations. It's something we can be good at. Let's face it, we don't really have to worry about the Peter Principle in blogland.
We discussed the relative value of suffering for Christians, whether the Red Sox will ever win a World Series (speaking of suffering), whether the French film Ham rented was a ‘ship movie (short for relationship, i.e. chick flick), the best place to put one’s money during the coming global depression (metals vs cash), the best way to allocate one’s lunch money, whether the anti-Christ will drive an S.U.V. (me taking the con, Ham the pro), how to get rich by checking friend’s couch cushions, the best way to drink a Guinness (four opposing fingers to thumb), the healthiness of watching too many X-files, Mr Boo’s last vowell movement, and whether either of us could come up with an oxymoron using the word "oxymoron". (More journal excerpts here.)
And generally I like what I'm good at. I like playing basketball more than baseball because I'm much better at it. I chose a career for similar reasons (or at least my reviews are good). But the rub is that what I did not choose - to be a Christian - is also what I'm not particularly good at. For once I can't alter the playing field to my own advantage. That that bothers me goes to pride of course.