Day One

Here's the thing---I've been reading a friend's blog. And being a reader appeals to me so much that I decided to become a writer (not a real writer in the sense of an author; I mean someone who lets their fingers move around the keyboard at about the same rate as my brain spews information), in part because I'm about to have a lot of time on my hands and need a creative outlet. But mostly just out of curiosity.

I've read blogs by people in the "entertainment industry" (man, do I hate that term) and there appears to be a very fine line between unabashed self-promotion and meandering thought. I'd like to opt for the latter.

Personally, I enjoy reading about the mundane goings-on in people's day-to-day existences. I don't know what it is, really; something to do with voyeurism or perhaps my tendency to covet locations. If I can hear about the weather in Vermont or Arizona, or what it's like to walk down a street in Savannah, I'm all over it. What I notice seems to be a common trait among humanity is this thought that everyone's life is more interesting than ours; people assume that because I'm a musician I lead a relatively glamourous existence, whereas I assume that if someone's a mother with small children, they likely hear about 750 hilarious things a day; if someone else works in a cubicle they're likely up on all the office gossip; someone else might be able to fill me in on interesting factoids about what it's like to work in a saline extraction plant (I don't even know if there is such a thing but I enjoy inventing jobs and workplaces).

So I guess my point is that I will likely talk about mundane details of my own life, not at all limited to my playing of the viola---which, let's face it, is perhaps not so fascinating to every literate creature.