A thumbprint on a skyscraper.

Like most things in my life, I've gotten into blogging kind of quasi-accidentally. It wasn't entirely random; I didn't trip over something and fall on my computer and spawn a blog. But it definitely wasn't really planned or deliberated over much, either. It's the way the zeitgest was blowing, I guess.

So I'm at what I imagine is a pretty typical point in the new-blogger process: what now? Why am I here (on the train to blogsville)? What do I want to do when I get there? Should I eat on the train or find a coffee shop later? What kind of bird was that? How long should I try to extend this metaphor?

Point is, I'm just a little stuck at the moment. Because what is a blog? It's an online journal, a We
b log, right? So I'll just do all the same things I'd do in a journal (which, historically, means making some half-hearted entries for about three weeks, then "losing" it under a sofa cushion), only with photos and links and such. Then there's the whole 'online' thing. No one ever read my journals before. At least they weren't written for anyone but me. This, though, this is out there. So it's really more like a scrapbook left on the water cooler for all to peruse at their leisure.

So, I guess that's the approach I'll take: I'm just gonna hold forth on things that I care about--my family (whose request for anonymity I'll honor), my work, movies and TV, old German cars, food and drink, worthwhile reading, lefty politics and minor-league baseball--and see how it goes. See if anyone notices. If they do (and I hope they do, 'cause, y'know, if a tree falls in the forest and all that) then, great. If not, I'll just quietly slide my laptop under the sofa, I guess.

Huh. That wasn't so hard.

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