One of the things I really miss about being a kid is getting to scream at the top of my lungs. I find there are many, many times during the course of the day that I just feel like screaming. You know… people can’t drive, people can’t use an ATM machine, unnamed somebodies couldn’t aim when they had to use the toilet in the middle of the night, there’s only one cookie left and it’s kinda stale, etc. etc. But what I really miss is just screaming for no reason… for the absolute joy of being able to, of hearing your own noise. Belting out a blood-curdling scream or war-cry just feels good. Kids can get away with it but not us grownups. And let’s face it, that’s part of the reason we all go to concerts and ball games, right? License to scream.
No Introductions Either
I did seriously debate whether I should write an intro to my blog. Common sense, right? All beginnings must come with fanfare? (Though personally I prefer things in medias res.) Should I have a mission for this space, a statement of intent? But then I figured it’d probably sound along the lines of, “Well, this is my first blog entry. Wow, I can’t believe it, I’ve got a blog…” So I decided, fuck it. Any visitors would just have to figure things out as we go along.
I just realized that the above two paragraphs sound suspiciously like metaphors. That certainly wasn’t intentional. I really don’t want to start off sounding like a pretentious fuck. Much better to stumble into that by accident.
See, like I really know what I’m doing. My theory is everything is just one form of demented lovesong or another anyway.
- the weirdgirl
Sometimes we all have to wallow (gleefully) in the dark.