Intangibles snatching

Dear Reader,

It is only fitting that I begin my blog with the same words as the original Journal of a Working Boy:

"Books are immortal sons defying their sires" - Plato

It is hard to imagine that such frank and eloquent words as Ignatius J. Reilly's could ever betray their enlightened and flatulent master's intentions. After all, words are written exactly as their author intended, controlling, of course, for the limitations of verbal expression. (See "Spoils" by Protest the Hero, or existentialism. On second thought, just go with the song.) I reckon the defiant streak of published words which irks me, Ignatius, and (in the ultimate, tragic way) the late Mr. Toole, stems from that fickle, presumptious, and self-centered entity, without whom there would be no reason to write in the first place: the audience.

So why, Kevin, would you be interested in keeping a public journal? Why?! Answer me!!

I am no stranger to the practice of written self-reflection, although recent years have witnessed a steep decline in the number and quality of entries in my lovely hardwood journal. I must regretfully admit that I have lost the passion and urgency I once felt for recording my thoughts and feelings as I ramble on through life. It seems convincing to diagnose the act of regularly documenting self-reflection as a symptom of social and/or philosophical growing pains, soon to be worked out of the system through time and maturity. However, this is not correct. In fact, thoughts like this are indicative of a dull, sad person.

Hey, did you just call me dull and sad?

No, no. There's that pesky problem with language again. Allow me to attempt clarification. I fear I have become quite dull, and that makes me sad. Yes, that's a bit more accurate. It seems that the more outwardly responsible I became to people and organizations, the less interest I found in introspection. I have a lot to show for my last year and a half of life, but I feel the clutches of the real world, rife with routine and mediocrity, tightening its numbing grip on me. I now know that in exploring and asserting my mind through my words, I am not simply "figuring things out," I am preserving and exercising my precious, youthful spirit.

Hey, you never answered my question, jerk!

Oh, yes, of course. I have never shared my written thoughts with an audience, let alone a potentially worldwide internet audience. No, I don't actually expect to have a worldwide audience. I'd be surprised if I can rope in 5 people to read half the content I write. I'm wordy, deal with it. In fact, in my first entry, I have already squashed the idea of having a fun, simple, accessible blog. However, I do want to achieve two things from this blog:

1) Share the awesome stories and pictures from my job with my friends and family.
2) Start being interesting, intelligent, and creative again.

So, here's what you may safely expect from the Journal of a Working Boy:

• Posts of excessive size and scope
• ...peppered with lots of bullet-points and numbered lists

• Frequent posting in the coming weeks/months
• ...followed by inactivity and occasional uncertainty about the future of this blog

• Lofty and sophisticated thinking
• ...interrupted by geekery about select metal music, video games, and cartoons

• Grand and noble treatment of the human mind and, in particular, my life
• ...with desperate, furious lamentations of my inconsistency
  

• Lather, rinse
• ...repeat!

Until later,
Darryl, your Working Boy