I’m the last member of my family to be online at home. My younger sister has been Emailing, FBing, IMOLFing, Tweeting, booking holidays and buying gifts from the comfort of her living room chair for years. Mum and Dad went live about three months back and Dad’s older brother who’s in his eighties started surfing the information superhighway – without so much as the aid of a virtual Zimmer – when it was still called the information superhighway . My best friend joined up in her sixth decade and here am I, a mere 38 years-old and only connected a week ago.
Perhaps I should be embarrassed?
But hell, I’m the sort of person who didn’t lose his virginity til he was eighteen, still wear my hair in a ponytail without irony and spend every spare penny of my none-too-generous salary on Prog Rock, a musical sub-genre that many feel ought to have died peacefully in it’s Mogadon-assisted sleep circa 1969, ok.
So I’m immune to embarassment and never gave a fig for keeping up to date with the Joneses or being on time in any capacity (Except for plane flights. They won’t wait for you. End of). It beggars the question ‘why write this?’ Who wants to read late stuff; which was out of date before it even arrived to boot? Probably not many folks, at least for now which is fine ‘cos I’d rather be tucked away, ignored in a dark corner while I learn the ropes of this Weblogging lark.
And I have no idea why I should be writing a blog except that a) I love writing and b) everybody else is doing it so why can’t I (to paraphrase The Cranberries).
Is that a good enough place to start?