I like blogging, me and so do other people
I enjoy blogging. It gets some of the things that irritate me out of my head without having to bore the bejesus out of my husband and friends, while sometimes it means that I can express my joy and happiness about a particular topic without boring those near to me as well. Really, if I’m honest, if you do read what I write and enjoy it – fab – groovy – etc, if not, well, it’s just tough poop.
I appreciate that what I say quite a lot of the time is just whimsy, the sort of questions that you address to your friends when you’re enjoying your fourth alcoholic beverage after an insubstantial tea. The kind of conversation that gets saved up as chat. Only with less swearing. And slander.
Which brings me to the Guardian and the Comment is Free section. I was reading this about the Chilean mining accident. Honestly, read the comments. The Guardian is one news resource that I’ll return to on a daily basis. I’m particularly keen on this section because I get to read opinions (not always the most informed opinions admittedly) from people taking a personal slant on an issue…i.e. blogging. Whimsy. Thinking something through on the hoof.
The thrust of the argument contained in the article Edison Peña’s marathon of endurance was that Edison’s efforts had a parallel with the hunger and need that keen exercisers experience on a day-to-day basis and the daft lengths people will go to get an exercise hit. In order to maintain his sanity, and at the cost of quite a lot of skin on his feet, Edison ran for miles in the caverns while waiting to be rescued. This was the man who the psychologists thought would crack, due to wwhat they perceived as his anger and aggression.
Anyroad, the thing I find most terrifying of all (in this, a country apparently renowned for its humour) is the shower of miserable gits who feel the need to take this stuff so seriously. In effect, the article by Matt Seaton is a graceful homage to the Zen elements of running, the getting through the lung and limb burn/pain to hit that stride where you aren’t struggling or straining, your breathing is regular and you feel that you can go on for hours.
I feel it’s a terribly cheap, humourless and miserable existence to have when you feel you can bitch about a parallel that is made in a post that is (and I don’t mean this in a negative way) essentially the existential whimsy that keeps our interaction with one another swirling. It’s not like all of our ideas arrive in the world fully formed.