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2002-07-01 4:40 p.m. Please, someone, take me out back and smack me around. I've done it again. I have this habit, see, one which I'm not particularly proud of. I understand if you decide that you never want to read me again after you discover what it is. Trust me, I'm ashamed of myself. And, yes, I know that's no excuse. What's my secret? I keep incomplete travel logs. Wait, what? You're still there? Whew. See, I don't tend to go on grandiose vacations that involve airplanes and duty-free shops and travellers checks. (Or 'cheques' for our Canadian friends.) I go on weekend long mini-vacations. I am the master of the road trip. Short Cuts? I find 'em. Longer-than-necessary scenic routes? Leave that to me. Colorful locals? They love me. And what I try to do is keep a running log of my travels and tribulations so that I can eventually transcribe them, well, here. For you peeps. Because I'm just so goddam interesting. There have been a bunch of times over the last year that I've meant to do this. But every time, umm, i've forgotten. Not this time, though. This time's gonna be different. And, for about 2 hours, it was. But, halfway to the weekend getaway, I stopped for lunch. The desire to keep any kind of travel log disappeared along with my apetite. Oh well. I was down in southwestern Virginia this weekend which, naturally, made me think about the Civil War. I dunno. I have something of an amateur interest in the C/W. I've read books, I've been to battlefields. I've thought about it. Alot. And I have no answers. It's easy for those of us separated by 140 years and 140 miles to state with authority that the southern states wanted to practice slavery and the federal government didn't want them to and thus they seceded and thus the war started. And we'd be right. But, at great risk of sounding a little pretentious, that's an overly simplistic view. I could go on, of course. I could tie the cause of the war to the difference of interpretation of the Declaration of Independence. I could debate the fig leaf of State's Rights. I could go on and on and on. And you'd click on to your next favorite read, of course. So I'll shut up now. But I guess I just wanted to point out as beautiful as that part of Virginia is, it's a little scary too. If you look closely, you get the feeling that the Confederacy isn't dead. It's just been beaten pretty bad. And is curled up, growling in the corner. Mom was at it again this weekend. For a while now, she's been telling me that I should get into freelance writing. I may have mentioned that here, as a matter of fact. Frankly, the idea thrills me, but I have no idea where to start and, well, fear rejection. Alot. Anyway, mom's telling me that I should write "just for yourself -in a private journal or something- just so that I could get in the habit of writing. I almost told her about this place. I came so close. But, as I told someone earlier today, I didn't. Some secrets are best kept, well, secret. Anyone out there have any idea how one gets started in freelance writing? leave me a note, fool! | |
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