What’s your excuse?

A blog is a form of exteriorized psychology. It’s a part of you, or of your pscyhe; while a titanium hip joint or a pacemaker might bring technology inside the corporeal you, a weblog uses technology to bring the pscyhological you outside of it. Your weblog acts as a new limb, a new mouth, and a new hemisphere of the brain. Once those new organs come into being, you’re no more likely to remove or amputate them than the original organic equipment they augment. I continue to write weblogs – not for money, not for renown, not for anyone but myself.
–Joe Clark, “Deconstructing ‘You’ve Got Blog’” January 25, 2002

I read those words over breakfast on my front porch ten days ago. Despite Clark’s later retraction of the final sentence, what he wrote resonated with me. As I poured myself into that day’s post, I asked myself, “Why do I blog?” Those words have reverberated in my mind for days now.

I discovered at the tender age of ten that pen and paper were my preferred form of self expression. Back in those days, I was painfully shy. (People change.) With my notebook in hand, I could express the opinions that I wasn’t always willing to expose to the public.

It was cathartic then, and it remains so today, twelve years later. In my closet there sits a stack of journals, catalouging my most intimate thoughts of the past four years. The latest in that series is tucked inside the top drawer of my nightstand, along with several spiral notebooks of thoughts then undeveloped. Even during classes, I find myself doodling along the edges of my notes. My heart finds its way out through my pen, sometimes to my detriment.

But not all of my thoughts are private. There are pieces that I write that lend themselves to input from others. Sometimes I want help critiquing a piece of fiction. (Yeah, that’s rare.) It allows me a forum for feedback, as does the newspaper for which I write. But more often than not, the thoughts on my mind reveal a bit about what is on my heart. This piece of the world wide web allows me to share my heart with you, my friends.

As it happens, most of my close friends live many hundreds of miles from my little apartment in Alabama. Many of you I met at our dear alma mater; others I have befriended online; still others of you travel here through someone else’s internet home. Whatever the case, this little publishing tool that Meg and Ev created allows me to share with you pieces of me that you otherwise might not receive.

Besides, I told you – it’s cathartic. What’s your excuse?

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