It begins...

Let's be honest, broad readership: "It begins inauspiciously" would have been a more apt title. My history with making any sort of coherent record of the various mundane events of my life has been checkered at best. There were countless failed attempts at keeping journals when I was younger--the first few pages invariably covered with writing, sparser entries by week 2, a lone, flaccid, guilt-inspired entry at month's end, and then big fat nothing thereafter. Ditto my two failed attempts to start blogs. One died a totally justifiable death, because it was about nothing and thus violated my rule that blogs about nothing are an egregious waste of time and e-space. The other--"Offensensitivity"--was well-conceived (about issues that become issues because some person or group feels offended--something that has always puzzled me), but that just provides more proof that I'm hard-wired with the disappointing tendency to begin grandiose writing projects and then, for lack of a more graceful euphemism, crap out.

But I'm going to give this another try, with a slender reed of hope that it will work this time. First, at the very least, this blog is not about nothing. On the contrary, it is about something: the trip I'm apparrently going to take to Central Europe for five or so weeks in May and June of 2005. Thus while this blog will technically be a daily journal, it will be one that chronicles me doing something that is, in my estimation at least, interesting, as opposed to the odious daily-journal blogs that plague the web these days, apparently inspired by the belief that the daily inanities of one's life merit publication. But I don't mean to oversell this. Caveat lector: I don't see myself doing anything particularly interesting on this trip (drugs, "extreme" sports, midget tossing, model airplane flying, flipping off royalty, eating spicy food), as I'm far too old and settled-down for any such things. But I am hopeful that, in my capacity as the weird loner/observer I'll see things that are interesting, will report them, and will thus have a reason for writing.

Second, I'd probably be attempting in some way to chronicle this trip in writing regardless, and this seems like a far more efficient way to do it than to write something longhand, which tends to give me the hand cramps and makes me feel self-conscious. (There's something embarrassingly generic about writing in Europe while on a trip--I keep thinking the locals are all pointing at me and saying "Look at Mr. 'I'm on a trip in Europe and writing in a journal'" in their indecipherable native tongue. Jerks.) But the blog form--daily (or so) entries, dates and times, no set limit or required style--seems well-adapted to keeping a record of this trip. Moreover, as I'm a thirty-or-so-year-old guy traveling solo, I very much doubt anyone will want to talk to me, and this promises to leave me with ample time to record, well, whatever I see taking place.

Finally, in the interest of avoiding any false hopes, here's what you can expect:

(1) Details about things I've observed. The devil is in them, and so is much of what makes life worth living. Also, as a writing teacher long ago once rightly told me, "write down the details, and they'll trigger the rest." Thus,

(2) No (or almost no) details about how I'm feeling. First, you don't care. Second, it's none of your business. Third, I can't stand blogs that natter on endlessly about their author's emotional state. Finally, I am on heavy antidepressants and have lost the ability to experience human emotion. Which leads me to

(3) Lots of made-up crap. Look, I'd be lying if I said my life was actually interesting enough to warrant doing a blog about it, even on a Eurotrip. And, as in my daily life, I make a lot of shite up to amuse myself. That explains why I'm constantly bursting into laughter (or, as the case may be, tears) for no apparent reason. And finally,

(4) No identifying information. I hate when writers have to rely on embarrassing or amusing things other people have said or done to make their writing interesting. Plus, it seems unfair to the unwitting written-about person to be exposed like that. And, I'm kind of paranoid and wouldn't want anyone writing about me. Of course, if you're reading this, you know it's me, but about others, nothin'. Wow--I just read over this and I sound really freaked-out and paranoid. And having written that last sentence only adds to the general sense of paranoia. Hm.

Anyway, broad readership, there it all is, yours to take or leave. Good times await!