Blogging, at some level, is predicated on that idea that you have something to say that’s worth other people’s time and attention. It involves being sure that what’s going on in your life is actually interesting enough to warrant other people wanting to read it.

I’m no longer convinced that my life is anything extraordinary. I’ve met people who are smarter, stronger, more creative, funnier, more mystical, better traveled, you name it. Every time I catch myself trying to play the game where I do my darnedest to make myself sound more whatever than the other person, I wince deep inside (this was probably my least favorite part of grad school, the constant effort to make oneself more erudite and connected. The grind endless one-upsmanship was truly horrible).

So, do I have anything to say? I’m pulled back to John Cage and his infernal “I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry” line, and back to Zen with its endless streams of “If you advance you lose it, if you retreat you lose it, if you do nothing you lose it. What will you do? Say a word.” The fact is that you have to say something, even if what you say is nothing. The fact is that you’re saying something, even if you have no idea that you are or what it is.

What am I saying? What do I have to have to say? What does this blog have to say? I really don’t know, but I think it’s about time I found out.