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Writing

I was thinking about all the things I've written here. On the one hand, I like my writing; if I didn't, I wouldn't do it. On the other hand, writing is an almost unwinnable quest to capture the essence of a moment, to give order to a chaotic and beautiful thing. I'll bet you didn't think of your life that way: a series of chaotic and beautiful things that tell a story.

I noticed a funny thing I do: I start sentences with conjunctions. And I do it with impunity. [That was gratuitous; you'll do anything for a cheap laugh.--ed.] I have to be the sorriest excuse for a grammar fascist there is. I'm like a grammar Pharisee, placing heavy burdens on the people that I am unwilling to carry. If an editor went through the blog, I'm sure I would be shamed into silence forever.

If God wills it, I would like to marry a girl who appreciates a good sentence. Is that weird? [Yeah, that's weird.--ed.] Some guy said that writing was tasting life twice. It must be true. After all, only I can live the moments of my life. If I want to live them again, or share them, I need words.

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