This section is the one I always struggle with. It’s easy to continue something you’re in the middle of, and even ending something is pretty straightforward. Beginnings though, beginnings can be tricky. Beginnings require energy and time, not to mention they’re new, and new things tend to be both intimidating and scary. Like quantum physics or an angry woman. Fortunately, there are decent enough books published on both writing introductions quantum physics, and so I find myself at a crossroads, a place where a decision can be made: continue or run away like a little baby, and I am no child.
I am, in fact, a college student; I am a junior currently attending a lovely little college with growth issues in a backwards, mostly-unknown state called Maryland on the eastern coast of the United States, home of Apple Pie and obesity. I am, first and foremost, mostly human, and I love words. Words, words, words, insert Hamlet reference, make my world go ’round. I love writing, reading, and speaking about writing and reading almost as much as I like writing and reading. Almost needless to say, this puts me in an interesting situation, for what college student in their right mind writes for fun anymore, let alone read? And while I love my friends dearly, I made the mistake of not befriending a single person who enjoys books of any kind nor in any capacity, and so I am stuck in a bit of what one would call a snafu.
You see, dear reader who may or may not exist, in the words of some very clever comic artists I met at Otakon, I do not participate in artistic masturbation; I do not write for the sake of writing. I write because I want my words to be read, and seeing as how so few of my friends read, and how not everything I write is a story that could be hosted by, say, Tor in any timely fashion, I made the decision to post my random thoughts, works, stories, poems, and, yes, even essays, on this site in the hopes that someone out there shares my bizarre tastes and reads them. The way I see it is that words exist to be read, and if they are not, they are not fulfilling their purpose. And I want them to fulfill their purpose.
So come, dear reader or reader-to-be, join me in my epic quest for meaning and entertainment, join me in this frivolous journey of self-discovery, join me, please, so this is not solely literary masturbation. Join me, and read for awhile.
This post is proof that I am, in fact, of poultry decent and that I can, in fact, type.