The reason, or ,'What am I doing here?'

2 posts back-to-back! Oh, the horror, the agony, the HUMANITY.

Fret not, this isn't permanent. I just started this, and I have a bunch of things to work out, so maybe the next few posts will be coming in hard and fast. Figuratively speaking. I totally expect this bubbling brook of thoughts to peter out and eventually settle down to a more relaxed pace after the first 5 to 6 posts. Maybe 1 every fortnight. No promises.

So, let's list a few questions that I intend to answer here:
- why am I blogging in the first place?
- why does it have to be a blog? why not just a simple diary, online or hard copy?
- why is there a tear in my cargo pants, over my right thigh?

First question. Why am I blogging? This is probably due to an amalgamation of smaller reasons, which I will try to expound on as clearly as I can. Considering that I once felt (and publicly announced) that publishing your thoughts online for all the world to see will, WILL eventually come back to bite you in the ass, this is definitely a strange thing to do. Ye gods, you've rescinded your words! How will anyone every trust your lying tongue again??! Shut up, that which is my conscience.

So why would I contradict myself? That's easy. Because I am a fickle idiot. Also, from time to time it's really easy to convince myself of certain things (which has led me to much heartache, but that's for another time). And yesterday, I convinced myself that having an outlet to record my often weird, sometimes philosophical, usually rubbish thoughts would help me keep track of what I think about. What makes me, me.

I've always been kind of an oddball. My sense of humour changes and fluctuates by the day. I'm interested in stuff that would mortify the mainstream. I have beliefs that contradict the religion that I hold to, and yet am able to continue living with myself. My plans for the future whip and buck like an angry bull with a crazy cowboy dude trying to hold on to its back for 8 seconds. I can display moments of brilliance in one moment and act like a total ignorant redneck jerk the next. Therefore, I think by recording such thoughts and events that occur, there may be some hope of me perhaps seeing a pattern, a method to my madness if you will. I may be able to understand my personality, and perhaps even plan contingencies.

Second question. Why an online diary? Why allow persons of unknown motivations and behaviour, or (shudder) people I know get a glimpse of what I think about? Wouldn't that give them some kind of hold over you later on? Two main reasons, I think. The first would definitely be vanity. I like to entertain the thought that someone out there may be interested in what I think about or what I have to say. I'm pretty sure I'm completely deluding myself here, but the beauty of the delusion is that I can indulge in it without being shown concrete evidence that I am wrong.

The second reason is linked to the first one. Assuming that someone I know miraculously finds this, then congratulations! You've hit the mother lode. Now you have a rough idea of what goes through my mind when we are sitting around discussing battle tactics for war games, or when you're telling me about your latest squeeze, or when we're driving around to some location and I am uncharacteristically silent throughout the trip. This is my roundabout way of letting people know the stuff that goes through my head and understand me better. So that they can plan contingencies of their own when shit hits the fan. As they will, eventually. Trust me.

Third question. I think I have solved the mystery. Directly over the tear, I can see my pants' pocket lining. Inside that pocket, I keep my bunch of house keys. I surmise that years of hard-edged metal rubbing against cloth (sounds vaguely dirty, I know) while I walk about would eventually wear away the fibres of said cloth, resulting in it becoming threadbare over time and eventually turning into a rip. And since I have no mending skills whatsoever, and it IS a pretty comfortable pair of cargo pants, I'm just going to ignore the rip and pretend it was never there until someone points it out. Which no one has. I'm not sure if they don't out of politeness or that they are secretly laughing at me behind their backs.