I am ambivalent about this—writing a blog seems an attractive way of expressing myself anonymously, yet I am also contemptuous of my desire to share my anxieties and thoughts. This is further complicated by a sense of modesty which countervails the peculiar self-importance in thinking that what I have to say might be of interest to someone and be regarded favourably, as writing that is relevant and incisive. Nevertheless, somewhere in our hearts we need to speak to someone and feel that we are understood and accepted, so if I cannot achieve this in reality in my rather isolated and futile existence, perhaps the virtual realm of the Internet can provide me with the illusion that someone out there can read the smoke signals that I am raising from behind my citadel and that there is a kindred spirit in the distance just as keen for contact. If not a kindred spirit, at least someone that might care.
It is not an especially great ambition I set before me, and ultimately this will be more of a cathartic experience for me than useful and interesting to you. Hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet also provides me with an opportunity to be honest and lacerate myself for all those horrendous errors and acts of ingratitude and pique that have informed my life during my tenure on the planet. On balance, the weight of decisions falls in favour of cowardice, spite, laziness, and stubbornesss. I cannot look on my life and recollect much that is deserving of pride, of something that I tenaciously fought for and achieved. Much to my concern and terror, I worry that I have squandered everything and wasted my existence.
It is not an especially great ambition I set before me, and ultimately this will be more of a cathartic experience for me than useful and interesting to you. Hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet also provides me with an opportunity to be honest and lacerate myself for all those horrendous errors and acts of ingratitude and pique that have informed my life during my tenure on the planet. On balance, the weight of decisions falls in favour of cowardice, spite, laziness, and stubbornesss. I cannot look on my life and recollect much that is deserving of pride, of something that I tenaciously fought for and achieved. Much to my concern and terror, I worry that I have squandered everything and wasted my existence.
