My email is typically barraged for a full day after I write a blog.  It often depends on the subject of the blog.  I started writing online several years ago when people in a chatroom told me I should document my funny stories.  I had thought about trying my hand at stand up comedy, but I seem unable to get my self together upon the stage.  So I write.   I write comedy, I write anger, I write political, I write justice, I am even starting to write reviews of things.  I also write about food.  I love to write about food, be it my own cooking or restaurant food.

I first got onto the internet in 2004.  I know, I am slow on the draw.  I found a chat room and just kind of hung out interjecting as I felt compelled to.  I moved to different chat formats and found a chat room that I actually met people from.  It became part of my life.  These were my friends, and I connected with them on so many levels.  Actually meeting them was at first a way to hook up.  Eventually that grew tiresome.  I could do that at a bar.  What I was seeking was that connectedness that was missing in my life.


Over the years I have stayed connected with some people, others have fallen to the wayside.  What I am seeking is the same for each person.  A grounding connectedness makes us feel alive, wanted and loved.  Without that connectedness we grow weary and the relationships fade away.

I have been a bar fly, a chat room junkie, a MySpace fanatic, a Craigslist perv, a Facebook whore and now I have this blog.  All in the name of connectedness.  What I find fascinating is who follows me on the different forums.  I am amazed where people find me, and the things that people seem to like.  It is interesting to me that people find anything I post of interest.  I have never considered myself a great writer.  I write , or Facebook, or chat to get things that irritate me off my chest.  I also write to tell something funny that may have happened to me that day or in the past.

I have taken many college classes that required a journal.  I was terrible at it.  My mom once got me a journal to keep track of 5 things I was thankful for each day.  I found that to be redundant and it seemed silly to write the same 5 things in almost every entry.   It reminded me of praying and telling “God” how thankful I was for my health, my family, my job, my life, blah, blah, blah.  It felt forced, just like the journals for school did.  There are days, when I really do not have much to write about, or I do not feel like writing.  So put me in the corner with the other bad writers.  I write when the mood hits me, I do not force it, unless someone has requested something from me.  I find writing to be much like my other arts.  I draw, I do calligraphy, and I have dabbled in painting.  Sometimes it will be over a year before I start-up again.  You cannot force the pen, that is how I like to think of it.

Being connected has helped draw out some of that art.  In my blog, I find it exciting to know that some people like my writing, or at least what I had to say.  Knowing that there are people out there reading what I post inspires me to post more.  I look at what keywords are being searched that bring them to me, and that often directs a new post or series of posts.  It makes me feel as though I am not alone in some of my obscure thoughts.

Connecting with others is vital to most humans.  It is vital to animals as well.  It seems there are few species that live singular lives.  Most create a group structure with some sort of leadership hierarchy.  I have been plagued in the past few weeks, wondering if these violent attacks were done by individuals who would be described as loners.  If so, could simple connection with others have prevented tragedies?  In our daily lives, how many people do we actually connect with?  How often are we aggressive in our connections?  Bullying seems to be more prevalent and I believe that this is a cause for people to seek isolation.  Isolation can create dark thoughts, which can eventually come to full manifestation.  How often do we see our fellow-man as not really human, or sub-human?  How often, I wonder are we able to be the light that shines in the darkness of a lost soul.  How many times could a simple smile prevent suicide, or homicide?  Not that these are the answers, these are just questions, and I for one want to remain as connected as possible in order to have a clear conscious.













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