Trial and Error

     It is true that I have often proclaimed over the years of blogging popularity that I would never become part of the internet-journaling society. Being avidly in favor of the feeling you get from cuddling up on the couch with a blank piece of paper and a pen, I vowed to never lose the joy of that experience. The fulfillment one gets from starting a new journal--wondering what will come next in life to fill the next page, what events will occur that will cause more than just one page to be filled, and the inexplicable feeling of accomplishment and significance once the last empty page has been run over by a symphony of words . . . words that have come from you, and no one else. There is nothing quite so satisfactory as writing.
     This is why I have decided to start a blog. Goodness knows what I'll write about, thus the statement about the "void." Of course I want to write about my gallant husband--the way he makes me smile, laugh, and feel special. Of course I'll be writing about my first experiences with motherhood and how it feels to have a precious little person the size of a cantaloupe growing inside of me. But I am not confining this to a family blog, because in all honesty, sometimes I just need to write about what I'm thinking about while gazing at the stars, of what I think of a certain character in one of the many classic literature books I find myself obsessed with, or a random philosophical inquiry I often find myself in that cannot be so easily explained until I am able to write it down.
     Nevertheless, for now this blog remains private--I'm not quite ready for the embarrassing feeling that my thoughts are being read by who-knows-who. Why this thought is humiliating to an English major like me is confusing even to myself. In my years of English classes I have always been told WHAT to write and HOW to write it. Only in my individual journaling have I found the privacy so stimulating. Whether or not I get the same feeling from keeping this blog online for a bit--only time will tell. Onward!

Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.
C. S. Lewis