Next Blog>>

I feel like I am waiting for the day when Facebook becomes interesting. Checking it throughout the day and hoping that this time it will be different. This time it will make me laugh. But most of the day I am looking at the same non-activity. Sadly, it has become a habit. An item within the checklist of activities that follows the motion of flipping open this computer.

I end up on facebook because I suck at the internet. I admit it. I’m a poor virtual surfer. I don’t know where to go to find mindless entertainment on this thing. Not to mention, my internet speed denies the possibility of video, audio and sometimes image streaming. So I am mostly left to reading.

As an avid reader, you would think I would be swimming in news coverage, blogs, published online literature but somehow I just wade in this material. Only willing to get in as far as my rolled up pants allow. Reading is much preferred with the weight of paper and ink in my hands.

Yesterday was another story. Yesterday I surfed the big kahuna. A reference to all those that grew up watching Back to the Beach. When the Bird was the Word.

The top of this blog has a tool bar. I’m sure you have ventured there when I get raunchy and consider reporting my abuse of this site and the English language. Next to the Report Abuse button, and ‘next to’ seems much too close I might add, is the Next Blog>> button.

I ODed on Next Blog last night. It’s a random sampling of the public worlds here on blogspot. What I read….

I spent a minimal amount of time on the Austrailian Romance Readers Association’s blog.

I found a Literature teacher that gives Tarot inspired writing assignments. Those cards did lead him to saying “All you need to do is place one word after the other...and trust...” - Mark David Gerson. Something I am taking to heart right now, because I wanted to write but had no vision, hope or direction for my words.

I ended up bothered by the cynicism of a clergy woman and scared by outright propaganda.

I learned everyone is a writer, everyone is a critic and everyone is famous.

I walked through family memories. Birthdays, vacations and childhood quotes. I am beginning to accept the fact that blogging is modern day history. It has become a record keeper for all the moments people want shared or remembered. Sad, blogspot doesn’t have that tangible aspect that I crave out of literature. It doesn’t quite capture the nostalgia of grandma’s scrapbooking and the anticipation of turning the delicate page to the next memory that waits there.

I laughed at reviews of fast-food restaurants whose coffee was deemed decent “considering the loose stool that passes for java in some fast food restaurants”- Aaron C. from That Bootleg Guy.

I was bored to tears by people’s views on everyday life and their need to show me how to live.

I discovered an English woman set out to boycott “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Klauss” because of the implied infidelity. She claimed trauma to the childhood thought of her Mommy kissing another man. Side note to this one – The word ‘infidelity’ temporily escaped me when writing this, so I was trying to google search my way to it and kept circling back to sodomy. I guess I can’t stay away from the asshole.

Mostly, there are hobbyists and journalists and sports casters and critics. In the hours that I spent hitting Next Blog>> I didn’t find anything quite like my blog. So maybe I ought to do it justice. My words weren’t anywhere else. Not even a faint echo of their sound. And yet, I always come home to the ego we all must have to keep writing, assuming people give a damn about what we have to say or ... maybe it's just how we say it...