It’s a moment that’s altogether surprising and extremely painful.
You’re in a rush and you’ve got your bags slung around your shoulder and you’re going to be late and you can’t forget to grab those letters that need to be mailed off the front table and put on the alarm and lock the door and make sure the dog has water and food to last him the rest of the day and you rush out to your car and click off the alarm and throw your crap in the back seat and as you’re slamming the door you forget that your keys are inside and you reach for them and by some random luck quotient your hand gets slammed right in the door.
Now your keys are locked in the car and your hand is slammed in the door and you’re screaming your head off because it hurts worse than the time you got your foot caught in the steps of an escalator and you just wish there was a way to escape the constant pain and yet no one will acknowledge what you’re going through or what’s currently going on because, well, people don’t like to be involved with such things.
Welcome to the world of blogging.
I’m continually fascinated by the free world of publishing (i.e. the freeness of your hand as it waves in front of a door jamb of an automobile as it starts to close) on the Internet (the word “Internet” includes the letters “In” which is how you get in a car, the letters “tern” which sounds just like the word “turn” which you do when you’re taking a U-Turn in your car, and the letters “net” which backwards is “ten” and refers to how many fingers you have on two hands and that half of those ten are probably stuck in a car door somewhere while you scream your head off) and how well people are utilizing it to share thoughts and ideas and art and really stupid flash files. Freedom of press, I say. Huzzah, huzzah!
Getting your hand caught in the door of a car is an experience that, if you’ve never had, can be quite startling at first (much like the initial experience of discovering blogging). It sort of snaps (like your bones) you back to life when you realize the potential creative flexibility (your hand is no longer flexible after an accident such as this) one can have in writing whatever they want, whenever they want, wherever they want. You’re “stuck” (i.e, your hand) once you’ve experienced just a little bit of the “juice.” (You probably had a can of juice in your lunch bag, which was in with your bags that you threw into the backseat just before your hand got stuck.)
The pain of such an experience (the car AND the blogging) is a pain that covers all sets of emotions. There’s the initial pain and worry that you won’t have anything to say (when your hand is stuck in a door, there’s not much you CAN say). Then there’s the initial guilt pain when you find that you’ve said some good things but no longer do and there are people waiting to read such things but you can’t push yourself (or pull yourself away from the metal jaws of your Passat) to create. And finally, there’s the pain of criticism (i.e., “Why would you slam your hand in the car door, you idiot?”) of your readers, who constantly send e-mails wondering why this and why that.
Eventually, of course, there is a moment of release and freedom (the local Fire Department shows up with the “jaws of life” to pry open the door and release your hand) when you finally give in to all that pain and questioning (i.e, “Why did I slam my hand in the car door, you idiot?) and exist for who and what you really are. It’s a moment of clarity that allows one to decide exactly who they are (the stupid guy who slammed his hand in a car door) and how they want to portray that personality.
You may not fully agree, but when I’m sitting down getting ready to write a post for WFME and my hands hover over the keyboard as I get ready to write something that may not be fully acceptable or entertaining… I pull back my hands as I imagine the figurative car doors getting ready to slam on my hands, locking them into a certain idea or a certain bit of text. But if I’m quick enough, and I’ve learned enough about the process, I can still remain free. My hands will live to type another day, and there won’t be any of that figurative pain.
See? Blogging equals hand slammed in car door.
Really, it’s quite simple.
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