I started this blog-flog thing because I was worried that I wasn't doing enough creative-type writing. I write all day at the internet factory, but it's more or less, less is more stuff. By that I mean that it all tends to be shortest distance between two points: CONTENT that needs to have a 'strong call to action' ... marketing-speak for 'make it so monkey-obvious that even we in marketing can understand it.' So there's a lot of telling people where to click and then being all horribly deceptive about why that is a good idea. Usually it's not. Mostly it's not. But that's OK. Most of the internet (or 'internets' if you happen to be dumb and president) is like that; an endless chutes and ladders game leading to, well, in most cases, a big blinking porn pop-up. Say it with me: porn pop-up. Before I worked in a job that involved banging on the keyboard all day, I wrote more outside of work. Hell, I even wrote poetry. And if that ain't the definition of creativity-starved, I don't know what is. But now that I'm not dredging and piling in a manual labor sort of way, now that I'm getting paid to write, I don't seem to need the outside word stacking as much. In fact, after 8 hours (OK, 7 hours and 48 minutes) of internet factory writing, all I want to do is set my fronal lobe to pause and bathe in the blue light of the television. Which I realize is a waste of time. So I started this blog-thang, figuring that it could be a synapse gasket between the work-time and the zombie-time. That's the theory, at least. The result? I wrote a bunch of these on a fairly regular schedule, and then the asembly line started to slow. The workers took long breaks. But that's about right. I can't, I won't, do one every day, like the BLOGGERS who dutifully write about each day, making note of each mundane occurence and bran muffin. DING! So that's it. I barely developed a point to this one, and now it's done. Please drive carefully. Be good to your waitress.
