Purpose and purposlessness

I was thinking today about the purpose of blogging. I am fascinated lately with the blogosphere, like a whirlwind of simultaneous autobiographies happening in real-time: oooohhhh. Except I can’t help the feeling that I’m supposed to be blogging about something--that this blog* should have a “purpose” or some consistent thread of subject matter. Get over it, I tell myself. It’s mine, all mine, and I can do with it what I want. HAHAHA! Freedom borne out of constriction.

So today’s resplendent entry is about goals, because I am by my very nature a planner, a list-maker, a goal-setter.

My goal here is to post something at least once a day, with the goal of forcing myself to find something to write about at least once a day, with the umbrella goal of re-building my creative muscle and using it to make my mark and maybe even a living with writing and art. I believe I can do this (post once a day) because late last night while falling asleep at the computer and persistently exploring the world of iGoogle and Blogger, I discovered that making a post can be as easy as sending an e-mail. Brilliant.

{ASIDE}
iGoogle (How do you start a sentence with iGoogle? Should the “i” be capitalized? I would very much like for the iGoogle people to meet with the people in charge of the English language and provide clear stylistic guidelines on this matter.) is control-freak nirvana. I adore iGoogle. Thank you, Jen A, for opening up my iGoogle eyes.
{END ASIDE}

And my other short-term life goals are few and simple:

1. Run a marathon (26.2 miles), or be capable of it, by the time I reach the age of 26.2 on December 31, 2008
   
2. Get a little pineapple tattoo
   
3. PASS THE PRAXIS II

I am considering the addition of a fourth goal: to train for a biathlon but never compete. You may wonder, Why train for a biathlon without the intention of actually competing in a biathlon?

Truly, it’s because I’d like to be able to casually drop into conversation, “I’m training for a biathlon,” which sounds more enigmatic and exciting than, “I just got my ass crushed in a biathlon.” And anyway, I figure you must have to be pretty crazy to want to compete in a biathlon, but even crazier to want pretend to want to compete in a biathlon, and I think that added bit of craziness is just the thing I need in my life, short of a big bowl of ice cream and a Scotsman.
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* I do not especially like the word “blog” because it sounds made-up, and not a nice or funny kind of made-up (you know, because I never make words up), but rather like the name of cartoon alien vomit, so I will use it as little as possible, and just know that when I have no choice but to use it, I do so begrudgingly.