The Beautiful Game

So here I am. Creating a blog. And I really don't want to, for several reasons. First of all, I generally consider myself to be pretty technologically illiterate. Blogs are for compsci majors who become shareholders from their I-phones while having a lucid conversation with you. Which transitions into my second reason: I am the worst multi-tasker I know. I maintain this is not entirely negative, given the monogamy with the moment that all bad multi taskers have, at least in theory. But coupled with the fact that writing has never been something I could pick up and leave whenever I wanted, and the fact that my immersion in certain tasks is such that you could sit next to me and make fun of me (one of my coworkers used to do this all the time), I know going into this that I'm making a commitment.

A commitment to what, though? Aren't blogs just voyeristic diaries for emotionally needy people? There was a time when I might have thought so. But in my typically anti-mainstream biased thinking, about 10 years after everyone's doing something I'll say, hey, maybe there's something to this. This makes me consistently out-of-date with styles, technologies, and most embaressingly of all, entertainment. A typical monday morning conversation with a co-worker might start with, "Hey, I was watching Valkyrie the other day, and you know what? That's a decent movie. I almost wasn't distracted by Tom Cruise for the first time." "Dude, didn't that come out like 5 years ago?" But I digress. My real reason for writing is that I've realized a few things about myself in my some 2* years of living. I take the "slow to speak" axiom to unprecedented heights, and often avoid articulating what I'm thinking or feeling altogether. My thoughts are so vivid to me I feel as though I have articulated them, but am frequently informed by my loving wife that I have not. And I think I need to. And for whatever reason several people have informed me that they find my writing style bearable. And periodically interesting.

Ludricrous.

But the tone with which this sentiment is expressed is not unlike the tone of an older woman in the church who tells you, "When are you singing again? God has given you a gift, and it's your responsibility to share it." I hate that tone. It's loving and convicting and disarming all at the same time. It makes me feel like a kid who's in trouble, like I felt when Roger Green stopped his lecture to ask me to stop talking and I was too busy talking to notice...yeah. So maybe, just maybe, a little articulation and intentionality will serve me well. New leaves, personal betterment, and all the rest. I shall endeavor to minimize entries that could be construed as incriminating to other parties, and avoid narcissism whenever possible. By the very essence of what blogs are, I fear I may have already failed on that account. We shall see.

P.S. The title of this post was due to the fact that the FA cup has been on this entire time, and I had intended to incorporate some soccer stories and process the myriad of emotions that well up when I watch a game. As you can see this blog had nothing to do with that- a more savvy person would have simply changed the title, but as I've already mentioned that isn't me, and one thing I want to avoid in this blog is being disingenuous. So there it is.