...and so it begins.

Cheers to turning the page. Cheers to blogging and the unknown road to self preservation and soul searching that it may bring to me. Cheers to the faux pas statements and utter bullshit comments that escape my lips - or in this case, fingers. I assemble this medley of creative thought with two goals in mind: a.) dominate the literary world with my free thinking ideas and b.) house all of my superfluous ideas together. Like milk and cookies - this is where gibberish births creative thought. Sometimes, I get so deep in my own bullshit, that even I forget whatever point it was that I was trying so desperately to make. I love to talk, I ramble. I am the broken faucet that over prolonged exposure will drive you to shove bamboo shoots into your nail beds. I have a talent; I am an expert at the manipulation of the English language. But in order to make the most of this gift I have to wade through all of the nonsense: in short, I blog.

Today has been mediocre at best - Wake up. Coffee. Meeting. Plot ways to make an exuberant amount of money while doing absolutely nothing at all. Pester my friends via text message. Argue with my mother. Coffee. And it is now only 3:15pm. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. When did I allow my habits to become to trite? (disclaimer: I actually really love every aspect of my life, but sometimes it just feels really good to bitch and complain about absolutely nothing at all. It makes me feel accomplished) I know for a fact that I have an extensive bank of earth shattering ideas that have the great potential to win me a Pulitzer someday - however, I am easing into this suit and for the moment I am totally satisfied with getting my weirdness out there in the open. My blackberry currently houses all of my potentially fantastical ideas - I find inspiration in the most unconventional situations and being the phone whore that I am, the blackberry is my scribe. Slowly, these jems will be unveiled and I will find myself naked before my readership. (I really like the idea of a readership. It too, is fantastical) Writing puts me in my most vulnerable form. I will run the streets in my birthday suit, I will karaoke out of tune, and I will allow robust and completely incriminating phrases to escape my lips - but putting my thoughts into form, and then exposing said form to the public is extreme. And potentially scarring. I am sure that I reference this fear in almost every theoretical piece I have ever written - it is a legitimate concern of mine. Stand naked, with my opinions and beliefs, for an entire audience to critique? It leaves me shaking in my heels. So bear with me as I assuage this phobia, if nothing else I guarantee your entertainment;]

I am excited about this new venture, I am looking forward to the journey and possible outcome of sorting through my rubbish. Though I fear the vulnerability that I associate with public writing, I encourage commentary. The good, the bad, the ugly - I will accept any of the above. My goal is to put thought to print every few days as I am trying to fit structure into my randomness - I hope by doing so I become more productive and organized in my writing. For now, I close with this thought: "My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things - trout as well as eternal salvation - came by grace; and grace comes by art; and art does not come easy." - Normal MacLean, A River Runs Through It. Cheers to that.