In the present day it seems as if every action requires a purpose. By the same logic, it seems as if any action taken without purpose is boondoggle. The idea of doing something for the sake of doing it seems foreign and a waste of time, but today I am willing to sacrifice a bit of time in exchange to write. Maybe that will change in the future, but that is a bridge to be crossed later.

Every other attempt I have made to create something online has been with purpose, but none of those were rather fruitful. For once I am writing without purpose. For once I am writing for the most selfish reason, myself. As a continuation of that logic, I will not be writing on a schedule; rather I will post as I deem fit.

Some say that they find writing therapeutic….to that I call bullshit. Writing is one of the most painstaking things in the world. The process of process of choosing the perfect word, if such a thing can exist, is anything but relaxing.

The hamartia of language is that it is limiting. Our minds are capable of feeling millions of expressions and beliefs; in comparison the number of words is existence is quite constraining. It is why even the most vivid description of a place can not replace the place itself. It is why as children we cry and laugh when we do not know the words to properly express our feelings. Pure emotion can never be channeled into words, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

So why write? To me writing is a lost art. Aside from the occasional letter or the mandated essays for one reason or another, there are very few instances where I find myself writing.

Why make it public? Why let To be quite honest I don’t quite know. For the last 8 months this post has sat waiting to be published.

We live in a world where it is easier than ever to judge someone. But unlike judgment in past eras, where one would be judged on a more complete basis, we now rely on 140 character tweets and 6 second vines as a means of peering into the lives of others. Surely there are some who can condense themselves into a few characters, but I for one cannot. Thus, if judgement is inevitable why not offer a more complete picture. At least then this judgement will hold a bit more value.

As with many things the answer is quite complex.

I think our minds are scary places. We can easily get lost in them. But that is one of the commonalities that we all share. As diverse as we may be, we have

And maybe that is the beauty of having a secret-public journal.