How many other posts are there out in the universe titled, Inaugural Post. I'm not sure. Nor am I even confident on the spelling.
That's one of the questions, isn't it. Who is and what is truly original? How is it possible to even be original in our world? Don't just our modern world, but stretching back to prehistoric days and everything in between. We all share the same angst and glory, drama and disappointment. None of us are original, and I guess that is what makes our life experiences so special. Anyway.
The purpose of this blog is to explore a writing voice. Any writing voice. Hell, I don't even care if its mine! Just kidding. Perhaps best to reserve the muck needing wading through for a diary. Then bring thought to the blog. Carry on.
My mother died when I was nine months old. It hasn't had such a profound effect on my life, but then it has. Absence has shaped me. Shaped my assumptions, my fears, my strength and my independence. Absence and replacement. Shaping and flexibility. All from a fixed and difficult personality. The curse and joy of my family lineage.
This is boring even me. Thus uninteresting. Must be the IFC moving playing in the background, the crooning coming from the family next door, the dog's squeaky toy. It adds to the neverending noise in my head. In my head.
In my so called life.
Until next time.
S
