The joy and pain of expressive writing

I'm not quite sure why I decided to start this. I consistently fail to maintain blogs; I believe I have had 3 or 4 in the past, all left to whither and die of neglect. As the saying goes: "Third time's the charm!"

Oh fuck, so much for that.

Often times, people use blogs as forums for emotional discharge. I suppose on some level the desire to emotionally purge from time to time has prompted the creation of this one as well. I figure it's better to articulate my thoughts to an imagined audience than to continue whining at my dog. Let alone the fact that he is an animal incapable of complex thought-processing: he can't hear a word I'm saying anyway (with old age comes hearing-loss, apparently.)

So why here? Why now?

I'd like to say this was sparked by some pivotal/poignant moment in my life. Perhaps the demarcation between a blissfully unaware young boy and the startling cynicism of a man hardened by his experiences.

No no. I'm just bored at work. And boredom, as we all know, is the seed of all new endeavors. At least dumb, poorly planned endeavors.

In fact, I'm so bored that I'm just going to go home now and spare myself the agony of another hour staring at the desk woodgrain. To be continued later...