A Truth About Blogs

This blog is making me aware of how little I have to say.

It has been a condition of my life, I want to express myself, to write something, create something... but when I try to, I have nothing to say, nothing to contribute.

I'm reading a book called Misquoting Jesus by Bart D. Ehrman. Its talking about the letters written between early Christians. How cool would that be? To have something to care about and write about and to send messages to one another discussing it. Along with that one, I picked up a book of quotes from John Adams, all coming from letters with prominent men of the day and, of course, his fascinating wife Abigail.

The closest I come is talking about Battlestar Galactica on a web forum. (And even then I don't have a lot to say, except that I generally like it.)

When I was in college I e-mailed my friend a lot. I'd write these long e-mails about life and the travails of getting a girlfriend and all the things I was learning about movies. I even had a pen pal. He was a seventy year old jazz xylophonist. But I lost touch with him, and while Eric and I still stay in touch, I just don't have the same things to say.

I think this is all apart of the same void that started, in a way, this blog. I have this tremendous amount of want, but I don't know what for. I feel this deep, compelling void, and have not a clue what to fill it with.

Likewise, I have plenty of blank pages, and nothing to put on it.