Blogging.

This blog has been rather sporadic. My tendency to blog comes in waves: sometimes I'm apt to do it frequently, other times I don't do it for months. In addition, the nature of the format also changes. Sometimes I'm inclined to provide thought-out analyses, other times I let my stream of consciousness roam, other times I reflect, other times what I'm saying is pretty meaningless... and may even be a waste of time to read (like now).

Whatever the case, blogging is great. It provides me with a space to be myself, where I can be vain, where I can outlet my thoughts uninterrupted, no matter how commonsensical or absurd. It also acts as a safer journal, since those notebooks full of entries sitting on my shelf slowly deteriorate (nature will eventually push them to meet their death). Having an audience whose identity is masked pushes me to think things out thoroughly, so that my entries won't seem like only jibberish. I feel like that one chick from Sex in the City as my fingers flow over the keyboard, or Dougie Houser, or Mr. Belvedere... actually no, Mr. Belvedere didn't have a computer (he only had that notebook and his little green lamp).