(web)Logs

I stayed at a bed and breakfast once in Kernersville, an old house renovated many times over the last two centuries. The owner left a diary from the beginning of the 20th century on the coffee table for guests to peruse. The diary contained entries about the day-to-day life of a woman distantly related to the owner who had lived in the house when it was still a farm house. What beautiful handwriting she had!

The diary entries were usually very boring. When you live on a farm you do chores all day apparently. Then you write in your diary that you've finally finished all your chores. The woman longed to see her sweetheart, and wrote excitedly about the days set aside for visits when they could spend time together. After chores.

Now that I've decided to start a weblog I'm worried that it will turn out to be as quotidian as the diary described above. My own diaries from high school certainly are. But I suppose they encapsulate a time period, a person who lived in a specific world detailed in the private thoughts and feelings locked up in spiral bound notebooks which I still keep with me. So I've logged before, but I've never blogged before.

For the eighth time now I am packing those notebooks into boxes and taking them to a new home. Every time I do this I talk about throwing them away and I don't. This time my old journals and I will travel across the border to Canada. So I guess that after living in a town I didn't like for twenty years, I'm starting a blog because I feel like life may finally begin when I leave. Perhaps that's what I wish to document.

I have a dim view of the sea of weblogs available to readers on the internet. I enjoy reading (some) blogs, but I'm not sure others will enjoy reading mine. I have to hope that I can inject something into the entries slightly more interesting than the bare facts and events. I hope to learn to do that while writing this blog.