Blogification

My very first page on the very first day of my very first blog.  A blog feels like you are writing to Buddha. Because who else are you writing to, really?  Sort of like Dear Diary.  I recall from a long time ago feeling definitely in agreement with Diary every time I wrote to her.  Maybe this is why people pray. They are sure to be understood. Fully.  No one to disagree with the deepest of ravings.  The conversation is unsullied by the “con” part of the versation.

I locked up my beloved diary with a little gold key and no one would ever know how I wanted to pound my ten year-old brother’s face in to a pile of hamburger.  But I was understood. And agreed with. Fully.

Except that with a blog, the entire universe has access to your diary. So I am going to temper my ravings with intelligence, style, and affability.  In otherwords, everything I write is suspect.

Dear Blog,

I no longer want to pound my brother’s face into hamburger. I am now an adult living in Marin County and of course do not involve myself with red meat.  And, to show you my progress, I do not even want to pound him into chicken cacciatore.  You see, change is possible. Yes We Can.

Love, Jolie