And now for something completely different…

What I find very interesting is how one finds themselves reading blogs. I mean, not everyone is into this entire internet subculture of blogging. I find myself often being many things to many people out there that I would never have been otherwise. People shouting out into the mass, at some blank wall or at some giant crowd, whatever or whomever it is they perceive is out there reading.

And its even funny how people start to even blog with similar themes or similar stories, just as I am right now. A few recent blog entries on places I often visit have been asking themselves the proverbial question: To blog or not to blog? A lot of people are being a bit reflective of the whole notion of blogging. Its purpose. Why they've come to do it. Do others know they do it or is it anonymous? What does it provide for them.

If you read my title box you will see one of the reasons I started blogging. I was asked by a friend to start blogging some thoughts. I wasn't sure why they wanted me to do this but I guess maybe they felt I had a bit of a voice to say *something* about *something* so I thought I would experiment a bit and see where things went. I didn't know if blogging was going to take off for me. I'm a bit of a paradox. I am a guarded person and with a cynical and suspicious nature. On the other hand, I am overly opinionated and impetuous. And now, here I am, almost 8 months later and post one-hundred and thirty something. Admittedly, some posts are silly quiz results or a gratuitous picture thrown in here and there. These are my thoughts. They might not be cohesive or brilliant or sane or even something you would agree but they're mine. They might change over the years, my opinions might change, but for now, these are my thoughts, these are my opinions, these are my words. This is my voice.

Whatever role you are playing, I appreciate your participation. I too have played many roles for fellow bloggers. I play voyeur; watching people's lives unfold before me and even if I know or not know that whatever they're typing is real, I become an audience and in doing so, I become a participant. I play amateur therapist to a host of issues; people screaming into the darkness their innermost secrets. I play punching bag to their angst; a victim to their venomous words of anger and frustrations. I play priest to their confessions; a quiet box where they relinquish their sins and transgressions. I play audience for their comedic performances; laughing at their witty compostions whether real or mere anecdotes.

I don't keep a written journal. I've always found that to be a bit daunting. I love to write, although most times not very well, I have found that when I put ink to paper I become frustrated with the result and never really reach an end product. Maybe it’s the perfectionist in me. My blog feels informal and casual; I know I'm not trying to create some enlightened piece of work. Maybe that's why it has been easier this way. Maybe that is why I have found it to be a number of things for me as I feel I am for other people's blogs too. It is my place to rid myself of angst… melancholy… silliness… despair… goofiness… suffering… weakness… strength… comfort… happiness… It is my confessional… my fortress of solitude… my blog…