Drama!

I'll sing it loud and proud: I'm hooked on Glee. Fox, Wednesday nights at nine, it became an event in my week; friends, ice cream, catchy tunes, and a reason to look forward to the dreaded "hump day" of the week. When the show took a break for the World Series, I've never seen a group of people look that dejected at the sight of Steve Carrell's face (as the Office came on instead). Now that the hiatus has been lengthened as the time slot is handed back to American Idol, I know so many people who just don't know how they're going to wait until April 13th.

I like the show for the entertainment value, but also because it doesn't take itself too seriously. In the venerated tradition of high school dramas, every week there is a new crush, a new fight, a hidden relationship brought to light, or dear God! the discovery that X isn't the father of Y's baby. . . gasp . . . it's Z!! It's overly dramatic, completely unrealistic, and amazing amounts of fun. However. Yes, I know, there always has to be a "however". And in this case, the however is this: dramas like these give us unrealistic expectations . . . about everything.

The Passive Voice

Perhaps the most common criticism of my writing. The passive voice is one I naturally use - not usually as awkwardly as that, but not usually on purpose, either. In fact, the criticism comes up so often, that I can't help but use my affinity for the passive voice as a piece of amateur self-psychoanalysis.

I took fencing classes when I was younger, and my coaches commented most often on my hard work, my ability to learn technique and respond to coaching... and my lack of aggression. My usual sparring partner, a boy of comparable age, beat me all the time solely based, according to the analysis of knowledgeable observers, on the fact that he would lunge when I would wait. I was a cautious fencer as I am cautious in other things, writing, apparently, among them.

Leaving only the follow-up to such a conclusion: what am I afraid of?

And how am I supposed to answer that?

beginnings.

This feels like a strange thing to do, starting a blog. Maybe because of the anonymity of it all. Maybe because I don't have the slightest idea what I'm going to say.

But because I'm a relatively busy person, and have things to do today other than sitting here silently and staring at my own words manifest on a computer screen, we're counting down to liftoff.

Maybe this is therapeutic, I've been telling myself for a while. I write, every now and again - sometimes every day for a few weeks at a time, other times not for months. But I journal, if you will. Here's the thing. When I write, I become cryptic. Even if my emotions are completely transparent, my contexts and descriptions and observations surrounding them are not. I don't write for other people. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I want to learn how, because one of the things I want to do in my life is write. Writing for myself is just fine and dandy, but I want to be able to say things to other people.

So I guess you could call this a trial run. You know, for the rest of the world.