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Life

Star Wars Day

May the fourth be with you. Apparently today is “Star Wars Day”. It’s all a bit thtupid really, ithn’t it. Thee what I did there?

Anyway.

What news might I have to impart? Perhaps that I’m back using the bullet journal again. My attempt to weld myself to mobile productivity apps lasted all of one weekend. It turns out – for me at least – there really is nothing better than a piece of paper and a pen. Of course the productivity ninjas will probably start wittering on about there being bullet journals and bullet journals, and will reference their own expertly photographed double page spreads of yoga mornings, boutique lunch appointments, and zen afternoon wellbeing meetups.

Idiots.

My bullet journal is an embarrassment to bullet-journal-kind. Each day has a list of things I wanted to get done, and things I did. That’s it. That’s as clever as it gets. Sure, I can’t search it without flipping backwards through it, but it’s not like it takes very long to find a password I shouldn’t have written in it in the first place.

Sure, I could fill the pages with wonderful little doodles that might yearn for a home in a children’s book or a graphic novel, but what’s the point (other than photographing them to become some sort of illustration influencer) ?

I’m not sure if the US version of “The Office” had an equivalent scene to the one where head office turns up, and it turns out the manager has spent all day inventing a new television game show. That’s what comes to mind when I see some people’s bullet journals.

I get it though. Doodling is kind of creative – and if we pooh pooh all creative things, you may as well destroy all books, popular music, and performing arts. Remember the movie “The Invention of Lying” ? Remember the performers reading history text books? That’s what happens if you stop doodling. It probably has something to do with butterflies flapping their wings, and water dribbling across the back of Jeff Goldblum’s hand.

I drank ONE glass of prosecco a few minutes ago, and this post is what happened. Can you imagine what would happen if I drank another glass? Probably not a good idea.

Categories
Life

Rediscovering the Tribe

The last few days have served as a reminder of how wonderful the blogging tribe has become. I’m not talking about the niche food, fashion, or lifestyle bloggers – they can go fall off their marketing tricycle and graze their knees – I’m talking about those of us that have been committing our daily stories to the keyboard for the last twenty years.

The term “blogger” means many things to many people. By turns we can be autobiographers, citizen journalists, soap-box campaigners, armchair psychologists, social commentators, and even historians. The best of us don’t push a brand, a product, or a way to live a life – we tell our own story.

I have a quote by Norah Ephron printed on a piece of paper above my desk:

One of the most delicious things about the profoundly parasitical world of blogs is that you don’t have to have anything much to say. Or you just have to have a little tiny thing to say. You just might want to say hello. I’m here. And by the way. On the other hand. Nevertheless. Did you see this? Whatever. A blog is sort of like an exhale. What you hope is that whatever you’re saying is true for about as long as you’re saying it. Even if it’s not much.

She had such a way with words.

I sometimes notice others striving to emulate the style of their literary heroes – I’ve never done that. I tend to think we should find our own way – find our own voice. While it’s true that reading influences the style and selection of words we write, I have always admired those that say more with less.

I’ve distracted myself from the original intent of this post. It’s a skill. I’m good at it. It ranks right up there with walking into the kitchen to make a coffee, and clearing the sink, emptying the dishwasher, and taking the recycling out before switching the kettle on.

The tribe. Us. The writers.

We may be quiet, and we may be passed over by many, but we are here, we are numerous, and we persist. We will continue to wield our words against the world that shapes us, and we will continue to find each other at the most unlikely times, and in the most unexpected places.

We are bloggers.

Categories
Life

Through Caverns Measureless to Man

The internet came of age when I was an impressionable teen. An infinite rabbit hole, filled with ideas, knowledge, thoughts, idiocy, adventure, and everything in-between. Idealism and optimism convinced us that we might find our tribe somewhere deep in the labyrinth, and forge an escape from the world around us.

I still view the internet in rose tinted glasses.

The beginning of a blog post always seems like an opportunity – an empty page, with limitless possibilities. Words that might agree with somebody somewhere, and build an unlikely connection.

The serendipitous discovery of new writers while on expeditions deep in the catacombs of the internet conjures images of Victorian explorers lowering rowing boats from sailing ships to undiscovered countries.

Call me a fool. I will agree with you.

I choose to see a world full of possibility, friendship, and kindness. I choose to ignore the legions of trolls, soap-box politicians, keyboard warriors, and cancel culture mouthpieces that blight the internet I once knew.

The internet is bigger than any one of us. It will still be here when we are gone. We are assembling a treasure trove for future generations of thoughts, ideas, stories, music, and art. It would be a tremendous shame not to take advantage of it.