It’s a strangely distasteful word. Like something you might accuse someone of in a heated argument when you’re just running out of ammunition. Your wife reminds of the time you had too much champaigne at your best friend’s wedding and embarressed yourself and everyone else by telling an inappropriate joke about shotgun weddings and redneck inlaws, and you reply: “WELL YOU’RE A BLOGGER!”

I confess to my shame that I always thought of blogging as the hobby of the sort of sad, lonely people who used to write “Murphy Rocks!” or “Foxy Sasha Wuz Here!” on the inner walls of the high school toilets. I believed that because nobody listens to these people in real life, their verbal constipation eventually explodes in hours of cyberspace scrawling, filling the airwaves with innane whinging that will never be read, much less appreciated. I was wrong.

My beautiful wife, Leane (in characteristicly unnassuming wisdom and innocence) introduced me to some truly amazing blogs, written by very talented and entertaining writers. These people write for the love of expression and don’t care if anyone reads… and inevitably, many people do.

Reading their blogs has inspired me to jealousy. I also want to write something other than theology assignments and learner assessments! I also want a clarity of thinking about the direction of my life! I also want to tell the jokes that I can never remember in person, and the poetry that is too beautiful for me to share without blushing!

And so I begin my little escapade in the comforting knowledge that few people will ever read these ramblings, and fewer still will feel the need to burst my little bubble of contentment by reminding me in heated arguments that I have become “A BLOGGER!”