At the Forest's Edge

I can be intimidated pretty easily, sometimes. Mostly it's all in my head. My wife has her own blog, and she does a pretty good job of it. She subscribes to other blogs which we read together, and I think to myself,

"Self, you could do that."

A blog is a journal...a public journal, which all of America can read. Blogs can be poetic, charming, insightful, and inspirational, the four legs which I aspire to hold my ecsense. While I like to think I'm doing OK at acheiving this goal, it's all in my head, which means there is no one to prove me wrong, until I narrate my life for all to read and judge. Being an excellent autobiographer requires a good memory recall, a library of dictionaries and thesauruses, and a knack for finding the right words for the write affect.

I took creative writing once.

As I march forth into the dark caves and slimey wilderness of being a blogger, purposefully facing the pitfalls of procrastination, the boulders of writers' block, and the dragons of insecurity, armed and protected only by my trusty sword of wit and sheild emblazed with "I took creative writing once," I hope to inspire you, provide insight on whatever it is I'm writing about, and charm you with my careful choice and organization of words.

A daunting task.

I look across the vast wilderness. I take a deep breath. I grasp my sword.

"Self, you could do that."

I enter.