Here Is The Ball. See It Begin To Roll

Well here I am; after years of being told, "You should start a blog!" by various people, I've started one.  (Thanks Melissa.)  I can't promise good capitalization or spelling.  Nor can I promise concise, brief writing. (*insert snarky remark here if you know me well enough to know my talent for making a short story long) I often ignore these things when "getting it all out."  I can't promise even, consistent posts.  I am just not an even, consistent person and after 38 years I am finally quite comfortable with that. I will often (I imagine) be fairly prolific, and then there might be a spell where I am missing from the self indulgent, virtual world of thought sharing.

In addition to the absence of prim and proper typing and responsible consistency, I can't promise grace, diplomacy, or other more sophisticated attributes. For this is more of a diary for me.  If you like it, and like reading it I will be overjoyed.  I love attention.  And I love entertaining people.  Some of the people reading this will no doubt already be aware that my favorite compliment is the one in which I am praised for being or deemed funny. I love to make people happy.  If you don't like my diary, stop reading it.  I have an emphatic compulsion to beg for your mercy where judgement is concerned, but I don't come here to edit myself.  If you can't take cursing, or unsavory subject matter then don't torture yourself.  I know myself too well to believe that those things won't make an occasional (read: frequent) appearance here.  But guess what! It's my sandbox, not yours.  I'm pretty sure I'll invite my Mom to follow these posts.  I know she'll do it.  I know she won't like everything she reads.  Probably many of you won't like everything you read.  But if your going to open some one's diary...

I will not keep my opinions to myself.  I will not reshape my opinions to be popular.  I will not reshape them to be unpopular.  I will not make them on behalf of you, I will not eat them in a stew.  I will not place them up for vote, I will not row them in a boat.  You can judge them if you must, or you can shove it where your butt crusts.

Self indulgence.  That's what I'm here for.  And if I get some attention out of it...Sweet.

I also know myself well enough to know that I will occasionally fire something off here and in reading it later.... will regret having written it.  Or perhaps I'll feel totally different with a little time and perspective.  I do these things less now then I used to, of course.  I might write an open apology or explanation if I feel so compelled but I might not.  I certainly won't be writing the aforementioned apology for any one's sake but my own.

The title of the blog is Peephole.  I like that title because of the visual you undoubtedly had when you read it.  It's the perfect title for a diary and it also takes a little of the "virtual" out of it.  I'm an old fashioned girl in a lot of ways.  iPads and the latest developments in flat screen televisions are lost on me.  Intentionally. (I just had to Google the word "iPad" to see how it is written...)  I like the image of an old fashioned keyhole in an old fashioned door handle that's cool to the touch and ornate with engravings on its heavy metal plate.  I like the image of a woman of some nondescript age but somewhere between eighteen and seventy (or maybe three hundred and seventy) seated with her back to the door at a heavy desk of solid wood beset with carvings and intricate hand etched detail.  Her hair is curly and washed with the light that pours gently through the window that's off to her side.  It spills past her shoulders and the locks are reddish in the late afternoon or early morning sun.  You can't tell which part of the day it is, and it doesn't matter.  She holds a quill pen and she is busy writing.  There is music playing; it snakes its way out of the keyhole through which you're peeping. A goblet sits upon the desk along with a large candle that's never been extinguished with a breath of air but rather always with the candle snuffer that's resting on the window sill. There are a few other curios that sit seemingly idle near the candle and the goblet.  You might hear about them another time.

A final note for my very first post:
Please read a blog called http://melissa-are-you-alright.blogspot.com/ 
My friend Melissa.  She is amazing.  She is one of those people who exude beauty.  There is a light that shines through her whole body that warms you with its presence.  She has boldly picked up, and moved to England for two years.  I cried like a baby one evening on the telephone while I shared with her how much I didn't want her to leave me.  Her company had a job position for her there and she is blogging about her move, her life and her other random observations.  I am lucky to have her in my life, and lucky to be able to read about her thoughts and adventures in London and beyond.

Blog ya soon,
EdgarAllanWhoa (EAW)
Jennifer