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Chicka chicka boom.

4 May 2011 Leave a comment

I thought that I had learned how to cook an egg in the microwave.

I was wrong.

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Categories: dead boyfriends, life

Once upon a time I had a journal

13 March 2011 Leave a comment

While thinking about what to write about, now that I’m starting back up with a blog, it occurred to me that at one point I absolutely despised the word “blog” itself. To me, it sounded like either some thing or some sound that might slip out with the occurrence of some accidental body function. Either way, it wasn’t anything others would be likely to find all that pleasant. At this point, I’ve overcome my fear of the word, although, for the life of me I cannot recall how the word came about.

Still, what I feel I’m doing here is journaling, and likely about personal matters, for most part. When I think of the word “blog” now, I tend to think of online documentation written by a person, or persons, for a specific purpose. A purpose assumed to be informative, perhaps even important, in nature. Now, when it comes to my endeavor of the moment, publishing a personal online journal, I tend to think of my previous, loosely-laid definition, of the word “blog.” Unpleasant. Synonyms: abhorrent, disagreeable, displeasing, distasteful, fierce, grody, gross, icky, irksome, lousy, nasty, objectionable, obnoxious, poisonous, repulsive, rotten, sour, troublesome, unacceptable, unattractive, uncool, undesirable, unhappy, unlikable, unlovely, unpalatable, yucky.

Now that we’ve gone through definitions, it’s time to identify the problem. At what point does does someone’s personal online journal grow up into a full grown blog?

I used to keep a journal on the online social writing network “LiveJournal” from the time I was around 19 years old until somewhere around 23. It was the only written documentation of my life that I’d kept. It could bore anyone with a myriad of daily musings, observations, complaints, etc., things I’d never want to read if they weren’t written about my particular life.

As online friendships grew, there were a few people who would frequent my little diary, and, from time to time someone would come in from a random search, but I’d say the majority of visitors were ex-boyfriends and one or two friends I’d asked to participate. Well, guess what? I’m old now. And I don’t have any ex-boyfriends, they’re all dead.