What the fuck is this?

This is diary of where it all went wrong. Another voice destined for obscurity and oblivion in the vast void of the Internets.  An archaic record of the hopes of another member of a doomed generation lost forever among the rubble of like-minded souls.
This is a record of the beginning.  The first records of a promising new voice in American literature.  One of the few lucky ones who the Fates proclaimed worthy enough to be relevant in this day and age.
Perhaps it's a little of both.  Mostly likely it's the former.

So what the fuck is this?

It just is.  A journal of thoughts and ideas dressed in pretty colors and trotted out in front of the world like circus animals.  At the same time, this is just for me.  A way to put my thoughts to words and maybe work out what is going on inside my little head.  A place tucked away for my own reference, a place that's totally visible to anyone with and Internet access and the ability and motivation to search through a lot of irrelevant Google results.

I was reading a book once titled, IRA: A History.  Basically an history of the Irish Republican Army.  At one point in time the author stated that a common problem was the organizations need to be secrative vs the Irish urge to be very, very public.  This conflict would result in a man spending hours secretly procuring gelignite and quietly coordinating the attack with a handful of conspirators and the nip down to the pub and announce his plan to the whole room... loudly... over a lot of beer.

So really, it's not stupid.  It's cultural.

 Hopefully you found this because someday I will have something published.  Sympathy for Immortals available in hardcover and paperback.  Check out the author's website!  Check out the author's blog!  Then a few of you, you go back through the archives.  The first post.  Isn't funny?  He didn't think he would ever be published.

Maybe you are just me in ten years.  Working a shit job.  Trying to keep the dream alive and returning to this time to try and remember why I even bothered in the first place.

So what the fuck is this?

It's nothing.  Go away.  You won't like it.
If you are family, stop reading.  I'm going to say shit that I don't say out-loud.  I'm going to say shit that I say out-loud too much.  You are going to want to ask me about it.  You are going to want me to explain myself.
I won't.  I don't wanna.

If you are friends or aquaintences... see above.  Except some of you know the awful truth more then most.  If you absolutly must continue, for the love of Gods keep it down.  They'll hear you.

If you are a present or future employer.  Well done.  You've caught me.  At one point in time I had indipendant thoughts and ideas.  I probably still do, it's kind of a curse.  The smart thing to have done would be to write these things down and hide them away where nobody could see them.  I didn't do that.  I wrote them down and published them.  Then I might have forgotten about them.  Now you've found them and you've got me bang-to-rights.  Now you can fire me.  Now you have a reason to never hire me.
Forgive me, but I couldn't let the richness of the world and all the experiences that are possible within pass me by just because I was afraid that it might offend my corporate masters.  Sorry.

This is a diary of how it all went wrong.
This is a tale of where a career began.
What the fuck is this?

It's nothing.
Go away.