In Which the Narrator Show How Much He Hates Talking About Himself By Talking About Himself

I hate talking about myself

This seems like an odd statement to make. Especially considering there is perhaps better than a hundred post on this blog that point to this being a lie. In fact, there are times where it seems like I talk nothing but myself here. Rattling on and on and on and on....

Most of what I deal with here, though, is what I believe about the craft of writing, about the genres I like, my own meager attempts at the art, and, to a certain extent, my thoughts on drawing. I have not discussed religion, my own or others. I haven't discussed politics, save indicating an abhorrence of the subject. I haven't touched that much on history, either, though I do have a passing interest in the subject.

I have mentioned my parents and my brothers frequently. Going by the blog alone, the impression might be that I have a single cousin and that I am a part of a small family. This, of course, isn't exactly true. My father's side is easier to remember, but my mom's... jeez, you need a flowchart and a degree. How she keeps people straight is beyond me. I have maybe three sets of three to four cousins and their kids and that seems like a lot to remember some days.

In EgoBoost Week 2005 I made mention of various points in my life. I've mentioned my high school, beloved Marian Catholic, but not the people in it, nor the college I oh so briefly attended. The few friends I've had I do not speak of, not because of something wrong with them, I hasten to add, but because it deals with me.

My job history I keep to myself. But that's to keep everyone's high opinion of me intact.

I could build this list further, but I think that's enough, really. There are whole areas I don't feel comfortable discussing. I probably never will feel comfortable discussing them. Everyone else is probably better off in the long run.

However... as I might have mentioned before, I hadn't expect this blog to last this long. Who can say what the future brings? I've already warned all of you about annoying autobiographical bits. More may well be coming done the pike.

But if this has been anything but a nightmare, and if we don't wake up to find ourselves safe in our beds, it could come again. To the ships at sea who can hear my voice, look across the water, into the darkness. Look for the blog... er fog.

(Yeah. I've might have seen The Fog once too many times. Now the question is, which Fog am I refering to?)