i/o

If you read this blog, I commend you. If you don't... you're a paradox for one thing. How could you know what you'd be without actually reading it?

I didn't mean for that first paragraph's existential nightmare to happen.

What I've meant to say from the beginning is that I understand if you're not reading this. I have another blog (Jon's Blog) that I expect people to read. I sort of try to make it entertaining and accessible for people. Read that one. I think it's worth your time and I expect you to read it.

This blog though... it's not entertainment. It's therapy.

I'm hoping that a side effect of writing here all the time will exercise my writing muscles. It's a very strange feeling to know something so well internally, but have no power to transcribe it into actual English. Often in the attempt to do so, there's a sad realization that you don't have anything smart to say after all.

The media age is a wonderful thing. For the past 30 years I've been consuming constantly. Steady input. All the time. People who are actually more aware of things may find that sad. It very well might be. I only think it's sad if I'm not able to output a fraction as much as I input.

That's the plan anyway. Or perhaps the theory. Who am I kidding? Pipe dream.