This Is Not a Blog (But It’s Something)

An obligatory first post, a mild existential crisis, and a rejection of the word 'blog.' Also, snail mail might be involved.

I have, on several occasions, attempted to blog. It has never gone well. Something about the word itself bothers me—too casual, too eager, like a handshake that lasts a beat too long. I’ve also written a few things on Substack. Why? Unclear. It felt like a good idea at the time. Now I plan to take them down, file them under well, that happened, and move on. So, this is where I’ll write. About what? Uncertain. But I coded this site myself, which gives me an entirely unwarranted sense of accomplishment. It’s simple. It works. No algorithms tracking my every thought. No pressure to perform my existence. Just words, arranged in a way that (hopefully) makes sense. Maybe, if enough people care, I’ll start an actual newsletter—preferably one sent through the mail. I used to write letters—not many cared to receive them, or maybe they did, and then suddenly they didn’t. But now letter writing seems to be making a quiet comeback, like vinyl records or people pretending they’ve always liked jazz. I also journal, mostly in cursive (an art form, not a language, though it may as well be both at this point). Occasionally, I write in mirror writing—something Da Vinci did, I believe, though I’m not claiming that makes me a genius. Just a person with oddly specific habits and a mild distrust of digital permanence. But for now, this exists. And that’s enough. Welcome, I suppose.