Ol’ Biker once said we should do something. We were sitting at the cubicle in the OSD – I was probably drinking some sort of soda or tea beverage to stay away – and he was sitting across from me attempting to read his books. One thing that should be obvious, when I’m around, very little work gets down, unless I’m working too. Anyway, Ol’ Biker said we should do something – was it tacking stuff on the cubicle wall? – and I replied, “I don’t think we can.”
“Oh, we can,” he said, “we’re just not allowed.”
I looked at him. Ol’ Biker, much like El Senor, has his moments when everything is technical. We wouldn’t be English majors if we weren’t. I shrugged and muttered, “You know what I mean.” He nodded. “I did. But just because we’re not allowed to do something doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”
“And just because we can,” I smiled, “doesn’t mean we should.”
I’ve broken that rule on my blog – I got mighty blog happy. I tried to stop myself, but last year was full of events – love, life, bees, sickness, death, pop culture, politics, bees, assholes, morons, writers, poetry readings, stalkers, lovers, bees, to name a few – that my blog became a vent place and a place where every funny little thing, interesting thing, dumbass thing got posted up here. And why did I do this? Because I could! I had a world opened to me through the internet that I just went wild and rampant with ideas that range from heartfelt to complete nonsense.
But at least, as I scroll through the past, I realized, just because I could didn’t mean I should’ve written about so many inane things. But if you don’t believe me, then perhaps you should believe a more professional writer:
Once-a-week blog entries turned into every 11-or-12-day blog entries. Coherent posts turned into rambling personal stories revolving around pop culture and my Netflix queue. And I became a little too obsessed with the notion of being able to post 1980s music videos featuring Rick Astley. My clever Kevin-ness wasn’t exactly exploding across the ‘Net as I’d planned. It was imploding on my career.
“So … I read your blog,” my dad said while I was out visiting him in San Diego.
“Yes,” I said. “And?”
He paused. “You’re not drinking during the day, right?”
[Alexander, Kevin. “This Writer’s Life”. Writer’s Digest June 2008: 20-21.]
I wonder if my ranting, ramblings and derailed train of thought has brought me to the point that I’m at now? Maybe. I could fix it, and I probably will attempt to fix it. We’ll see.