Well, here we are.
I guess I can take another stabby stab at this blogging... notion. I hesitate to say "trend," because that would imply that I think I'm being trendy by creating this little receptacle, and my motivations are really much less substantial than even that. I have this old friend, you see, who rather suddenly told me that my various and sundry musings might be worth putting down in a particular place, which I suspect may have been her very polite and positive way of asking me to stop being weird at her every time we talk and go do it somewhere else (I had just finished telling her that I wanted to make a newspaper hat to put on for when Sister came home on her lunch break, so I could take a picture of the look on her face when she came in and saw her grown brother sitting on the floor wearing a newsprint fedora). And since the majority of discussions on internet message boards tend to be roughly as rewarding as tossing a coin into a fountain (if the coin was bent and ruined first, and the fountain was full of endlessly cascading pee), she further suggested that a blog might be a good idea. That turned into a hesitant offer of "I'll do it if you will," which somehow made the whole notion a lot more fun and palatable to me because now we each get to have one guaranteed follower. That way when she accrues six or eight more and it eventually turns into a couple hundred since she's a pretty girl with actual interesting things to say, I'll be able to look at my list of just her and console myself that at least one person is avidly reading my every post title. And then skipping the text. Our conversation then, quite predictably, turned into this:
Me: I'm kind of excited, now. I have a blog. What if it gets really popular?
Her: It'd be awesome.
Me: What if eight thousand people a minute are reading my goofy thoughts and try to make me the leader of their city-state or something?
Her: "Omg, Stacy, did you read the pen in the stone this morning?" "Loved it!" What if people FB link it?! Oooh.
Me: What will I do with all the ladies' panties when they start arriving in the mail??
Her: ...
I've attempted this before, actually. I love to write, you see, and fancy myself a storyteller, so a couple of times in the past I've come by various winding roads to the reasonable idea that writing something down regularly might not be an awful endeavor. Unfortunately, my brain's tandem desire to maintain the attention span of a goldfish conflicted with this, and so somewhere out there in the ethereal mists lie the abandoned corpses of two blogs, with around two posts each. Not much of an epitaph, but for all I can remember they were just recipes for corned beef hash, or my grocery list for that week or something anyway.
So who am I? If for some reason you don't personally know me yet and have found your way here, my name's Gabriel (sometimes), and I'm a not-getting-any-younger freelance novelist and writer. There's more to me than just that, of course (like, one more detail, maybe, that probably has to do with a video game), but we can figure the rest out as we go... wherever it is that we're going with this.
Well, I don't really have anything else to say that moment, and I'd better get cracking on finding a newspaper if there's gonna be hats to roll eyes at (I have quotas to meet), so I guess we'll find out more later on.
Stay tuned.
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