3/29/2016
As a writer I have a grasp on the art of stringing words together in an attempt to formulate thought into a shareable medium by which to express the ramblings taking place in my inner-world. That, however, is where my confidence in this endeavor ends. I admit, out-rightly and without shame, I am a techno-holdout. I didn't even possess a cell phone until about five years ago. (And, yes, it was a simple flip-phone with no internet capability.) It took me almost six months to send my first text message. Over a year before I tried to take and send a photo. In the spirit of true confession - I still own a typewriter, a stove-top percolator, fully-functioning hurricane lamps and nibbed pens.
Call me a Luddite if you will. I'm okay with it. Really. I've been called worse. A lot worse...
It has been recommended to me - repeatedly and with copious amounts of eye-rolling - that it would enhance my word-smithing skills were I to begin a blog. Given my glaring lack of human interaction (I do live in the rural Mid-west, after all. The majority of my ponderings, readings and writings are targeted at fur-bearing creatures who are long on listening but rather sparse on feedback) and reinforced by the changing face of publishing, communications and - yes, let's face it - even human relationships it has been dictated that I set aside a shrieking reluctance born from unwillingness to tackle the frustration which rears its Hydra-headed fury at my inability to instantly know exactly what to do, where everything is and how everything works, and JUST DO THIS THING. (Their bellowing. Not mine.)
So here I stand, a sad, pitiful sight. Sweaty hand clutching my trusty quill, wonky lantern bobbing at my hip, staring out at an abyss of ominous shadows masking anything remotely familiar. For a change I am far less worried about teasing and testing 'what demons lurk in the heart of humankind' than I am about what will happen if I hit this button, post that photo or try to add a link. Far in the distance, across the ominous, shifting terrain I can feel the boundaries of my Innerscape - that place in which all possible strangeness exists waiting to be explored and mapped and where I am blessedly more at home than any of the places I have been forced to exist. But first, I must step out on an epic (so I have been assured over and over and over) journey to locate my personal passage from there to here.
Being a guide is not unknown to me. Give me a paper and a pen or a pair of eyes to stare into and I can lead a mind from point 'a' to 'zed' with all the beguilement of an impassioned Rasputin... (Hmm..that may be a rather bad analogy given how it ended for him...) Anyway - I lead well. Provided my launch point is from inside my personal domain and does not involve anything remotely electronic. Given that, as your guide, I feel it is my duty to warn you up front - this is not going to go smoothly, quickly or with anything even approaching finesse. It will most likely be a tripping, stumbling, butt-sliding, back-tracking, curse-laden, down-hill rush and up-hill climb filled with false starts and abrupt halts. Not to mention meandering, confusing detours into waysides fraught with every random topic under the sun. Or moon, as the case may be.
For those who are willing to bear the marks, bruises and winces, I thank you. For those who are not -I wish you Godspeed and good times...
H. Newberry
