This bites.

But thankfully doesn't sting, swell, itch or ooze. Not yet, anyway.

I've been bitten by the blog bug and like many, I never thought that it would happen to me (bad alliteration, that is). What's the big deal with blogging anyway? Isn't publishing your inner monologue for the world to see a mini-exercise in narcissism?

Perhaps?

No.

Okay, well maybe a little, but that's not the drive behind the desire to type. Journal writing has its purpose, and I'll likely still keep mine, but who's gonna listen to that. It's just you and, that's it, you. With blogging there is, at least, the potential to be heard. It's venting without the guilt of running on too long—a little problem of mine (the running on bit). Anyone who has had the misfortune of encountering one of my voicemails understands this first hand. Here, it just doesn't matter. Maybe writing a blog will purge me and spare future listeners the pain of my run-on messages; thinly-veiled, stream of consciousness ramblings that string from tangent to tangent. Okay, probably not, but for their sake, here's hoping. And for those of you who stumble across this, turn tail and run as fast as you can. Otherwise, best grab a bottle and hunker down.