Since my Mom’s been bugging me to for so long, I’ve just gotten around to creating my own “blog”, which sounds like something that you would cough out of the back of your throat. And in a way, it is. This will be the projection of how I see things, for all to enjoy. I can’t promise exact accuracy. Nor can I promise frequency of posts, because I already have something rather like this that takes up a lot of my time. It’s called my journal. I write in it for upwards of fifteen minutes every day, so I won’t always be in the mood to write yet more things here.
Okay, let’s get a few things straight. Rule Number A: There aren’t any real rules around here. Mainly this is because I wouldn’t be able to enforce them even if I could come up with any. You’re allowed to disagree with me, even though you’re probably wrong if you do; you’re discouraged from swearing at me, though I can’t do anything much about it, so you’re technically allowed to do that too; you’re allowed to talk in Swedish or Czech, though if you speak either of those I probably don’t know you and can’t fathom how you got here; you’re allowed to throw Twinkies or whatever your snack of choice is at your screen when you read something that you particularly don’t like, because it’s not my screen… In short, you have pretty much a blank Czech. So toss away. Let’s get things started.
Today I got back from Gilboa Rock Quarry, where I had previously SCUBA’d and climbed the on-site rock wall. Then I ate some cereal, and visited several websites. Then, for no particular reason while watching my mom check her blog, I felt the urge to have one of my own. I think it’s so I can show her how it’s done. Hers is so boring you can hear your computer falling asleep. I get bored sitting in the other room when I hear her typing. So I’m going to show her up. Which brings us to here. I’m sitting here at my computer typing words that I hope, in some way, will amuse you, or at least not be fatal to you. And that’s all a person can ask to have, isn’t it: a page with a bunch of amusing, non-fatal words.
I’ve got to go create a profile of some sort. I can’t say for sure when I’ll write next. It’s impossible to be sure of anything. Like, what proof do we have that the yogurt in the fridge won’t sprout legs and stage an uprising? It’s wildly improbable, yes, but nothing’s impossible. To that end, I’ll say that I’m fairly sure that I’ll write again tomorrow, but not completely certain. I have to go now, though. The yogurt is throwing Twinkies at me.
File under: meta