I'll say it, straight away: I am not a blogger.
Yes, that's right. I am the one. I have blogged but once, for my job, and the experience was not a comfortable one. It felt as though I were taking a shower (insert other, more graphic word here -- rhymes with "rump") in front of strangers. I'm not even sure I'm a diarist, come to think of it -- unless one considers my books or screenplays to be elaborate diary stand-ins, which while not true, is fine if it sells books.
Is everyone a blogger except me?
I write novels, screenplays, articles -- but somehow have managed to dodge the blog bullet. Until now. And you may see, in reading this, why this is so.
Here's the thing -- what is the purpose of blogs anyway? To give advice?
I don't want to give you advice. I don't want to tell you not to eat shoe leather or drive that soot-belching car of yours while I tell my kids the python got hit by a bus before it was made into my purse...I'm not going to tell you you voted for the wrong guy in the last election -- do you, after this last Memorial Day, where we lost eight more soldiers in Iraq, not know this by now? I'm the person who once made a lobbying trip to Washington D.C. to protest the dismantling of environmental laws...in a private jet. I'm not going to tell you how to find your soul mate -- or what to do with him after you've found him.
Where are your parents? Haven't you been raised by now?
If you can read this, you probably know that smoking's bad for you, that too much alcohol can lead to pregnancy and premature aging (during baby's first year), that eighteen thousand cups of coffee a day is probably not a good thing, that you should probably be able to see over your belly, that fake sugar is never a good idea, that a little real sugar and butter won't kill you, (live a little!), that all ills can be cured with olive oil, a touch of rock salt, and some warm, crusty bread. You probably know not to steal, or kill, or lie unless it's about that new outfit your wife is wearing, or if your kid asks if he's going to be the next Allen Iverson (some lies are more giving than the truth.) Further, you know that we keep fighting the same war over and over. You know better than to give your 16-year-old son the keys to Dad's new sports car. You know that children somewhere are dying -- deaths which could be prevented. You know to avoid tanning booths. You know that gas companies, pharmaceutical companies, tobacco companies and huge multi-national agricultural firms may not (SHOCKING) have your best interests in mind. You may want to vote accordingly.
You know all this, and yet, you're reading this blog. Why would you be doing such a thing? Now, get out there and do something! Or don't! Just try not to hit that python when you back out of the driveway! I feel bad enough as it is.