Blah blah blah, and why I blog

Phenomenon: I have started probably six blogs since my last blog. The much disputed grifter commercial blog. I got the tee-shirt. It is cool. It says, "Mind is Power. Body is Tool," and has a fire and ice yin-yang on the back, all printed around with Chinese characters. Not Naruto. He's Japanese.

I did. I started at least half a dozen blogs. All about writing. And I got a ways into them all, and decided to myself, these aren't relevant to anyone else. They were all pretty good; I had lots of thoughts in them, they kept a cohesive point. But I didn't finish all of them, and I clearly haven't showed any of them to you. I know why I wrote them. I wrote them to succumb to peer pressure. It's especially easy to see this in retrospect. In which case, I pause to wonder why I didn't publish them to you people. I've proven myself not especially bashful to expose people to what I might find banal. And I've already decided these blogs weren't banal. So why do I keep them back?

After wondering, I've come to this conclusion: I blog to keep my ideas coherent. In blogging, I'm forced to at least attempt cohesive ideas, linear thoughts, A to Z logic, and clearly worded sentences with only one subject. In succumbing to peer pressure I'm forced to choose a subject to attempt to explore with clarity. And in attempting this clarity...I attain it. But my conclusions rarely have worth without context, and in general I withhold the context because I don't want to ruin a whole bunch of surprises. I do love surprises.

It's like Dirty Bess Cash said: They're in some sort of code. They are. I leave out parts, because really they're for me.

So you don't get to see all of my blogs, and I really don't mind all the poking. Because occasionally I have inpired thoughts about women civilization.

Plus, I'm working on this story, and it's going really good. It's freaking awesome. All the pieces are falling into place--all the tools I've ever learned are actually helping me put it together.

To conclude: anything you heard about a black sheep and a waffle iron and my old shoes is a lie.