a blog is meant for...

     A blog can be a powerful thing, though usually not for the person reading.  It's like a diary that's open to the public.  Sort of.  Usually no one really cares enough to read it, like a diary (let's be honest, you don't really want to read someone's diary.  You might say you do, but once you read one or two stories and realize that none of it's about you you're going to get bored and go back to snooping through their dresser).  It's usually unrefined, somewhat too personal, and uninteresting, like a diary.  It's usually kind of boring, like a diary.  In fact, there is really only one difference I can tease out between a diary and a blog: a diary is meant for one person, whereas a blog is meant for all.
     Perhaps this is a product of the times, where everyone thinks that what they have to say in their private lives is pertinent to everyone around them.  I'm amazed that as the number of people in the world grows larger and larger the number of persons believing themselves to be unanimously relevant to all people skyrockets exponentially (he said in his blog post).   

     Perhaps that's a little unfair.  Some blogs are good.  I have this one blog that I just can't stand to part ways with.  It's just too good.   I greedily race to the page each day to brave a search for new posts amongst the hideous background wallpaper, and I steal away with free minutes to sink my teeth into old posts.  This one too.  Sure it happens.  But like almost never. 

     What is a blog meant for?  
     Good question, Josh.  Would you believe that it's meant for the blogger?  I do.  I think that I will bring myself back to this page so often that Google learns that I like it here and sends me here without being asked not because I have anything substantial to say to anyone, but rather because I have things to say to myself.  
     It's like a diary, remember?  But this diary is kept out on the front porch and anyone passing by is free to open it and flip around for a while.  Most people won't sit down on the porch swing to read. Perhaps no one will.  But I don't mind, this isn't for them.  
     I'm writing for me.  This is a canvas on which the swimming colors and words and sounds that cloud my mind will spill forth and escape my cranium.  And since the format is public, I need to do it in an organized manner. 
     Most diaries are dreadful to read.  People drone on and on in ways that would only fly in a book that's tucked away in an underwear drawer.  But here, under the great eye of the public, I have to work on my words.  I have to let them sit, sink in, and accept my criticism.  They have to be honed down so that the occasional passerby isn't accosted by their harsh character.  This is a way for me to think clearer, so that when I say things that people will need to hear they'll be thankful that I've had the practice.  

     So here we go.  A wild ride awaits.  But don't worry, it's my ride, not yours.