What this is?
I’m not particularly good at this blogging thing. That this blog is meant to be an official blog, with real names attached to it, makes matters worse. I rarely have much to announce, and Ham and I made a pact to never allow this blog to turn into an everything/nothing chronicle of what we ate for breakfast, how we are feeling emotionally, and what song we want people to believe that we were listening to as we were typing our posts. If this were the kind of blog I used to chronicle my misbehaviours, it would be more populous. This is not to say that in my own life, by seconds and minutes, times of rowdy misbehaviour outnumber moments of gentleness and sensitivity; but rather, misbehaviour is considerably more interesting.
This is also not the place for it.
The trick is to write things up here that are both not personally damaging, and not phenomenally boring. I have yet to figure out how to do this frequently.
I had a LiveJournal, some time ago. I’m really glad that my real name wasn’t attached to that one. I was going through a strange grumpy-and-angry-all-the-damned-time period. I also swore unnecessarily in my writing. Constantly. Go through this post, and find a way to add one “fuck” for every occurrence of “the”. It becomes excessive. Not being angry-all-the time hurts productivity and interestingness as well. Lately, I’m barely angry enough to qualify as being angry-some-of-the-time.
I sprained my ankle last week. Having a sprained ankle is like being angry all of the time, I guess, except, instead of being angry, I’m in a modest but manageable amount of pain. There is a lump on the top of my foot, near the ankle, as big as an egg. I keep poking it. Poking it is probably not helping matters, but it’s a lump the size of an egg on my foot and it’s a wildly different colour from my usual pasty whiteness. I have to poke it. All the time. I suppose, lately, I’m not-behaving-in-a-manner-conducive-to-the-healing-of-injuries-all-the-time.
Which is, in its own way, a kind of misbehaviour.