After much struggling, I have decided to create a weblog. In the past, I've attempted journals and diaries, personal and artistic. The efforts always failed because, honestly, I couldn't be bothered.
For a class in an institution, the name of which I hide for professional reasons, I was asked to keep an artistic journal. Instead, I forged one a couple days before classes ended. I assembled various pieces of paper together, used different pens and pencils and spent a couple hours making shit up about how I felt during the previous months. For the older days, I made sure to grind the pencil entries into the backs of the previous papers to make it look like they had been crammed together for months. I handed it in and felt awesome because journals are for suckers.
Why the hell would I need to blog? I'm trying to be a professional writer. Shouldn't I be writing things that I can sell instead of piddling away time and effort?
And yet here I am, and here's this blog, and I feel good about it. I've decided that I really like reviewing books, movies and TV shows. I want to share my insights. I also have opinions about other stuff, chiefly what I would do differently if I was the dictator of Canada/Earth.
So here I go again with another journal. It's not fake this time. It's 100% real, minus some stuff that I keep private. Stop by every now and then for some folksy, golden-prairie Garrison-Keillor-style witticisms, only with more swearing and unspeakable visitors from dark universes.