Now what?

Well, as you can see by the text in front of you, the blog is up and running.
Yes, I have successfully overcome the obstacles in my path -- slain the three dragons of laziness, complacence,  and self-doubt -- and am back on the web with a will to do some creative work.
Unfortunately, I am at a loss as to what I should be creating.
It's all well and good for some hot coworker to tell me that I should take up writing again, but when you get right down to it, what am I to write about?
I tell ya, The Black Keys have some truly impressive music videos.
 . . .
That's about all I got.
In the past, when I was new to the blogosphere, all fresh-faced and full of hope and crazy ideas, I blogged on subjects of a deeply personal nature. I felt protected by the relative anonymity this medium provided (despite the fact that I would look each of my readers in the face when I showed up at school the next morning; when I was doing the actual composition, I was separate, and that was enough for me). Nowadays I am too jaded -- not to mention too smart -- to post intimate details about myself on the web.
I would also fill my blog's pages with long-winded music and film criticism, but that was before I realized no one cared what I think. So this, too, is out.
I recall writing about my day-to-day life, although somehow, back then, it seemed pertinent and interesting. At this stage in the game I need the blog to escape the drudgery of my existence, not provide a play-by-play of it.
As further fodder for blotter, I would ramble inanely about my personal view of the world and existence, but I feel I've exhausted that subject and have mellowed, in my quarter-age, to a generalized laissez-faire approach to world. I hold no set beliefs now, and one can hardly fill several pages with explanations of vague notions.
Finally, the content of past blogs was to some extent determined by their readership. If my blog followers wanted me to elaborate on certain subjects, or devote posts to a topic of their choice, I would always oblige. By latest calculations, this blog has precisely . . . zero readers. So, there's no one to offer suggestions or submit requests. In fact, there's not really any reason to talk about anything . . .
I feel I'm in a grand auditorium, on stage, confronted by row upon row of empty seats, before a single, gaunt microphone -- the old-timey kind, with the clunky, angular head. *Tap, tap*. Is this thing on? Lights go up.
What to say?
Now, before I go any further, let us avoid any misunderstandings. This is not my attempt at self-pity. I am not sitting here wondering why I am typing to no one. I have told no one about this blog's existence, so I can hardly be surprised at the lack of readers.
No, I am merely working through what, if anything, is there for me to write about.

*Gazes in mirror*

You know, a topic may have just presented itself.

Personal Appearance!

But, sadly, it's half-past the Witching Hour; I must work a double tomorrow and am coming down from a slight cold. So, that will have to be a story for another time.

Thanks for helping me think that gnarly little knot through.

'Til next time.

The Maiden Voyage

I feel an inexorable need to compose a grand inaugural post for this, my newest blog. There are, however, a few hindrances, impediments -- some might even say obstacles -- which stand in my way of doing so.
The first is rather abstract -- to the point of being pure superstition. I have had several blogs in the past and have launch each with much fanfare and hullabaloo, only to have them fail. And not fail in a grand, explosive fashion, but rather fizzle and sputter like dud fireworks. As such, I am slightly trepidatious re the whole impressive first post.
The other reasons are more practical, and, I must say, do not reflect well upon m'self. For, in addition to not wanting to jinx this journal with too ostentatious an opening, I have no material with to fill said opening. Although, what could I write about? I have ample thoughts to fill future posts, but nothing on the subject of a first post. The subject of a first post, after all, should be a first post. So . . . I seem to have covered that fairly well . . ..
I could ramble on about who I am and where I hail from. I could bore you into a stupor with tales of my past online ventures -- which were extensive and exhausting -- but I'd rather leave the past behind me and expound on who I am with each post, like tiles in a goofy mosaic.
And, on top of not having a topic on which to write, and in fact, having a desire not to write anything expansive, I find myself a tad short on energy and what y'might call creative drive.
To be honest, this whole blog wasn't my idea.
I enjoy writing. Or, have enjoyed it in the past. And, yes, I have felt, since the last time I wrote with any regularity (about two years ago) a growing emptiness and, conversely, a maddening intellectual congestion due to my inability to flush any of the nonsense out of my addled brain though writing. Still, I would have been quite content to continue with my path of mental asphyxiation if it were not for the unexpected intervention of a co-worker. In the end, it did not take much of a push to send me tumbling back into the blogosphere; simply the surprise attention a beautiful girl who was kind enough (and enough of a Facebook stalker) to recognize one of my abandoned "talents". So, thanks for cursing me with future sleepless nights spent updating this jalopy and for inflicting me upon any readers still aware of my existence. Very kind of you.
Sheesh.
Side note: How would you say this is going so far? Creative talents, just like physical ones, need to be honed and maintained with constant practice. They need to be exercised like muscles, or, like muscles, they'll atrophy from disuse. I am sure my writing muscles are as slack and useless as the limbs of someone in a coma, recently awakened after years of languishing in bed. (That preceding awkward simile should prove my point.) I suppose the kinks will iron themselves out over time.
Speaking of kinks, I have discovered a fourth reason why this post will not be as majestic and awe-inspiring as one might hope: the rich and varied world of Internet pornography. It would be enough to distract Milton from completing Paradise Lost. Bad example. He was blind when he was finishing Paradise Lost and did so mainly through dictation . . .. Still, you get my drift, I think. What would normally be a quick little initial foray, a dipping of my toe into the e-waters of the blog pool, so to speak, has been dragged out into a several-hours-long slog due to the ceaseless and inexhaustible well of naked parts available at the touch of a button.
Damn you, Internet! Making me waste time and tissues when I should be concentrating on getting this post finished.
Actually, I'm not sure what else there is to do or say . . ..
This first post is a bit like one's first alcoholic drink or first sexual encounter. One can dream and scheme all one wants about manufacturing a special moment, perfect and unique in every detail and in keeping with all the unreasonable standards thrust in our faces by popular culture, but when one comes right down to it, the special nature of the event is in its being the first. The fullness and splendor comes later, through the hazy lens of memory. I held off on losing my virginity until I was an embarrassing twenty years of age. How sad is that? I mean, I'd never share that fact with anyone. *Looks around*. Oh . . . uh . . . well, no one will read this, anyway, so I'm probably safe . . .. I had waited for something amazing; waited for some sign or defining moment. Eventually, I just went for it and was a little disappointed by its mundanity. Later, my then-girlfriend and the popper of my proverbial cherry, recalled it wistfully, speaking of the breathless, spontaneity of the exchange, of the slippery, tactile intensity -- her, caught slightly off-guard, especially after my continued avoidance of the deed, waiting in her dorm room. Me, clad only in a towel, still dripping after a morning shower. She spoke of how my hair was still wet (at the time over a foot long), and glistening. I was able to see it through her slightly rose-tinted, romantic impression and realized, as I say, that the moment is special through reflection, not due to any planning beforehand.
My first purchased, legal drink -- at the age of 21, embarrassing again, but I'm something of a late bloomer, what can I say -- was at the Amherst Brewing Company, amongst a group of high school friends home from college. One Wachusett Ale and I was feeling distinctly inebriated, almost supernaturally captivated by the crooked grin of a high school crush. At the time I felt only that I'd waited too long. In retrospect, it was actually as good a first drink as one could hope for.
As such, this post need not be overly eloquent or lengthy. It needn't explore any deep philosophical truths. It need only be itself, and in time I shall look back on it with affection.

I pray I've conveyed a few aspects of my online journaling which readers should be made aware of ere they start to plow through my tedious digressions. One, my writings are, as I state, lengthy and often depart from the topic at hand. Two, they are of a personal and revelatory nature. I have little shame in personal interaction, and provided with the impersonal anonymity of the Internet, have none at all. Hence the paragraphs concerning the loss of my virginity.

If both of these caveats (nor the prospect of my pretentious writing style, long-winded and half-thought-out opinions, and nauseatingly bad fiction) do not send you running from the computer in terror, than welcome aboard! Let this be the first of many posts, each a unique thread in the tapestry that is this blog.

I am back, and hopefully, here to stay.