Blimey I'm a Blogger?! Catharsis is underrated and unnecessarily long offstage intro . . . . .

I am writing this blog in the full knowledge that this will only be read by a handful of my closest friends. And of them maybe on average one will read the whole of each post. And on average maybe 0.2 of them will continue to read after my first couple of posts. But for some reason i still feel the need to start like this

Hello, <-----------------------------------------------------------

It's late, my tablets have kicked in and I've had one of those days where time goes much quicker than your body can comprehend. How it got to be 3 o'clock in the morning only my clock can tell me. And I lie here rolling through the playlists of BBC iPlayer and staring at my ceiling in the usual fashion. However something is different. Tonight I have the urge to write about it (and yes I now know the difference between write and right).

Tonight, having started this blog earlier today, yesterday . . . . whatever. I have an outlet. Tonight I post a blog with intent, purpose and direction. All the things I thought this blog would lack. How I got to this point of having a purpose for my babbling, and why it emerged came in a moment of stark realization. Unless I posted another blog, I was not a blogger. If I post one blog, I have blogged, but without the repeat offense it sits there as electronic evidence of my lack of focus and drive. To prove to myself I still care, and can follow things through I HAVE to post again and make this a habit.

So Here it is. A post, with intent to post again, with the purpose of making this bit of my day easier and a direction of thataway.

Usually at this point I am watching a program that is blowing my mind and succeeding in making me feel as insignificant as I feel whilst watching Alexander Guttenplan roll off a string of startlingly obscure correct answers on university challenge. But tonight seems different. I'm not quite sure if its the fact that my nasal passages are so swollen that my brain is incapable of engaging its more intelligent of sections, whether achieving success in a virtual sporting environment has created endorphins to counteract my usual feelings on my existence or whether I have had some sort of sub conscious epiphany. But tonight my bed doesn't seem so big, my room doesn't feel so cold and the world doesn't feel so vast.

Tonight I can blog away that awkward bit of the night that quickly moves from, 'just one more article', through 'wow i have watched a whole series on string theory' to 'shit, i can hear birds'.

The process of blogging feels to me like a safety net. A safety net for my sanity. And i like it. As many a night i seem to lose it. I have never been a fan of the diary. The diary does nothing for me except stare back at me and mock me. It mocks me with its unedited, raw truth. When i read something about me I don't want it telling me what I am. I know what I am. A fool. I don't want to see my un-edited flaws. I want to see white lies. I basically want it to act like a primary school teacher and say 'Good work' and have a smudged green smiley face stamped at the bottom.

For me, with my several hours of blogging experience, I can categorically say that blogs achieve this. They are a diary with an edit tool. And for me thats comforting. When I read this back I don't hate myself. I feel like I have just put on my favorite hoodie and been given a cup of tea. Comfortable exactly where I am. And at the moment that is a novel feeling.

And so there it was. The dodgy sequel. Who knew that it would descend into something deeper than I set it out to be. i guess thats its charm.

Take it easy.