So I’m starting a blog. Something I was vehemently against for oh, I dunno, a decade or so. I remember my friend (and intelligent writer friend I held in high regard at that) telling me some 7 years ago while sitting on the washing machine in my 20-something-year-old-communal-student-house kitchen that she had started a blog---and I should toootally check it out! I could only think to say back to her, “Blargg!” Blooger. Boogie. That’s what I heard. Also, some stupid gimmick to give any ass-hat a false sense of worldly importance and validity because, oh yay, his/her thoughts and daily doings are somehow compelling enough for other people to give two sharts about. Oh you’re on the internet. Good for you. Your blog sounds dumb. Just because it’s called a blarg. Booger blog. (Although my friend is awesome and smart. Not an ass-hat or dumb. I’m evidently just an ignorant turd.)
Yes, I’m also a history major and I am utilizing the hunt and peck method to write this on my keyboard. I’m a traditionalist, an analogue camera user, a book nerd and I happen to have impeccably lovely handwriting. Good for me, right? Have a great time being irrelevant and snivelly and getting left behind with all of your stuffy old professors you idolize so much. Oh, by the way, none of them care about your pretty handwriting. Also, how many articles have you written since you graduated? None? Oh. Well, your post it notes look real nice. We really like seeing those pop up around the office. (That’s what people would say if I worked in an office.)
It was only in this past year that I realized that I had been a judgmental, elitist prat for assuming, on my little holier than thou edumacated platform, that what is old is better. It’s just not the case. Yes, there is magic in reading a real book with paper pages. And the sound you get from a record is always warmer and better than digital. And creative process can be so much more productive when writing tangible and tactile words on a paper with a great pen (plus I get to use all sorts of satisfying loops and flourishes in my immaculate cursive). But the reality of this technological world is that although its rapid progress is kind of terrifying and it absolutely has the ability to suck your soul, (oh yes) it’s not all nasty, modern-robot witchcraft. I realized the other day that it turns out that I was being a racist toward computers. The digital world really is just a new language. Not only that, it’s a global language connecting anyone with access to a computer, which, as we know, is becoming more and more the new paper and pencil. And only because I didn’t want to welcome and understand the merits of learning that language, I was skeptical and turned my nose up at it like some crotchety old geezer sizing up the new whipper snapper in town. Yeah, he’s got some weird, ridiculous clothes on, he speaks like an alien, listens to racket he calls music and disregards many of the things I see as intrinsically valuable. But he’s so effing popular and he’s the future. Perhaps if we make friends and learn to work together we can teach him how to grow up into a responsible and awesome adult. Maaaaaybe he can even teach us something useful. And what better way than to share with little mister internet the things you know? The things you give a flying fart about. The photos of the world that you find inspiring and beautiful. Other people’s creative projects you come across. The brilliance of the everyday mundane. Be connected.
This blarg is not intended to be an exercise in building the muscles of my ego, but to share. To perhaps make somebody, somewhere reading this break into a smile or be inspired by a photo (hi mom). If anything, it’s me making friends with the internet. Perhaps writing for a bloog will help me actually learn how to use this confounded thing without having all those wretched red squigglies all over the joint.
I mean, really though. Doesn’t the word blog make you think of a slimy gooey booger guy? It just makes me think of snot.