Q.E.D.

As I immerse myself more into the pervasive (or perverse?) world of weblogging, it becomes clear that I must now get used to wrtiting in first person singular, something I’m reeally not prone to do. I find it the easiest thing to do, which is likely why these days everyone can so easily expose themselves, real or virtual, to everyone with a simple click. “My”space. “I”tunes. I was told in gradeschool by english teachers that the easiest way to write is to write about yourself. They were attempting to encourage students to write journals, and in so doing, encourage children to take writing as entusiastically as going to PE class. That is my problem. I am a rebel.

Although I’ve been writing all my life, I never developed the patience to write journals though aware of their advantages. Maybe it’s just that. I’m impatient. These BLOGS are essentially the same thing – personal journals made public by the nature of its medium, DONE so because these days EVERYONE has to have their say.  By the time I was features editor early in high school, I had already developed a specific style that preempted my introduction to Strunkand White* in college.

Where am I leading to? Perhaps that is the more relevant question. It would be that: I find writing in the first person singular to be the laziest attack to composing, and by extension, crude and prone to ramble PARTICULARLY journals. Limitations set by the margins of a printed newspaper, for which I have been trained in since gradeschool and now, Inquirer Libre, do not allow for endless strings of thought, unlike novels. Maybe these are the same arguments set by print journalists who, at some point, verbally differed with the online species.

Novelists don’t have this problem. Essayists don’t use the same voice. But blogs are, to my think, essentially the same as journals – therefore ramblings on the wall. Journals aren’t bad, per se. It’s just that sometimes, the ramblings are just that. One can smell bad cheese even if they stood on the moon. Blogs are sessions of virtual therapy. Is everyone so cut off? That’s another matter to think about.

I am still struggling with the journal, whether written in ink or swiped by the cursor. That’s why I am struggling to do this blog. There. I’ve proclaimed the mystery of my lack of faith.

This is what I say, for now.

* The Elements of Style, William Strunk Jr. and E. B. White 1959

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