Good Lord, what have I done?
For years I have claimed some measure of writing prowess but have always been able to convince myself that I just didn't have enough time to sit down and write about the things and experiences that really interested me.
"I have to write my thesis . . ."
"I'm too busy with work . . . "
"I'm exhausted . . ."
"I don't have the time to invest in order to make my writing as earth-shattering as I know it could be . . ."
All bullshit. I'm actually your run-of-the-mill college graduate who uses cliches and colloquialisms in his writing (I just did it earlier in this sentence if you don't believe me), and whose excuses for not writing anything of interest at an earlier point in time are more honestly the following:
"I have just created myself as an unstoppable collegiate running back in Madden NCAA football '06 and am about to win the Heisman Trophy . . . "
"Working at Starbucks is taxing on my mental faculties . . . "
"I have to masturbate . . . "
"I have just created myself as an unstoppable third baseman for the Houston Astros in MVP Baseball '06 and am just about to lead the boys to the promised land . . . "
Lastly, but I could go on and on:
"I am busy carefully crafting excuses that will explain why my thesis is not completed without undermining my ability to claim that other things in my life are unfinished because I am working diligently on my thesis . . . "
So why start writing now? Good question. I have started to write and then deleted five or six sentences here in the last few minutes and am coming to the conclusion that I don't really have a conclusion. For now, I'll just say I see it as a way to commune with my sister. She started blogging long ago to vent to cyberspace, but has recently felt a little intruded upon. The phrase, "venting to cyberspace," does not imply that cyberspace will critique or even vent back, but so it has been for Rachel in the last few weeks. From my perspective, most of this boils down to the fact that she has disgustingly large deposits of talent that hang off of her personality like the bags of fat most kindergarten teachers have where their triceps should be . . . but in a good way. My folks see this, especially my dad, and while taking massive amounts of pride and enjoyment in her abilities, also want to encourage her to "do something" with said ability. Hence, they comment and critique and dissect. All of this is good and well as long as the posts have something to do with Navy functions and boating mishaps and not gyno visits and wedding beds.
So here I am, taking one for the team and offering myself up to the same scrutiny and dissection; and with a blog entitled "Drinking stories" no less (parents love stuff like that!). I'm pretty confident I didn't need a semicolon in that last sentence, but fuck it. There it is. Critique away!