my apologies to Holly and other literary folk

I really am starting to get a great deal of enjoyment out of developing this blog page. I have found that throughout the day, I find myself translating my experiences into complete thoughts, as if I was writing about them as they occurred. When I was younger, I was a pretty darn good writer and enjoyed maintaining a column in the Panther Press, our high school's weekly, hard-hitting newspaper. My first semester at Murray State University quickly killed reading and writing for pleasure, a passion only to be resurrected in recent months.

My main explanation for being so gratified by this blog page is the fact that I have this desperate, primal urge to be understood. I began to realize this toward the end of my college career, as I began to assemble my senior art exhibition. Some of you may remember that many of my pieces contained words, often encrypted into other languages. It wasn't enough just to create a work of art and let it speak for itself; for some reason, I couldn't trust that my audience could understand precisely what I meant by it. I felt compelled to spell it out for them. I can not abide the thought of someone misunderstanding me.

The other thing I enjoy is letting my family and old friends keep up with me. Much of what I write about is the mundane: some ridiculous customer at the store, the latest miracle or sin committed by the cat, my long list of failures as a homemaker. It's not necessarily the most exciting autobiography out there, but it's mine nonetheless. Those who are closest to me enjoy reading about these things (for their sakes, I sure hope they do!). These boring, day-to-day experiences are the things that they are missing out on, now that I'm grown up and gone. They are also the things that I appreciate most about my visits home; my grandmother's sweet corn or my mother-in-law's unexpected appreciation for Janis Joplin, my thoughts dwell on these little things when I'm gone. So I hope that those who miss me feel like I not quite so far away when they read this.

As I write, much of what I learned in school begins to come back to me. I do honestly try to change up my sentence structure and not be repetitive with my word usage. But I still start my sentences with prepsitions frequently. And I don't always use complete thoughts. I constantly have to evaluate whether or not to use a comma; I freely admit that I tend to get a bit "happy" with them.

Try not to judge my writing style too harshly. I haven't had a real grammar lesson since the eighth grade. I didn't know what a gerund is then and I certainly don't now. So just sit back in your office chair, go click on my page's address (because I know you all have it saved in your favorites), and enjoy the not-so bumpy ride. Yeah, that's a good way of describing it. It's like the "It's a Small World" kiddie ride at Disneyworld. Except without the fifteen agonizing minutes of the same stupid song sung in every blasted language by those evil robot muppet things!!!!!!

*Sigh*

I hate friggin' Disneyworld. But I'll save that particular rant for another day.