It was exhilarating and nerve racking at the same time. Pressing the right buttons was crucial and it was vital that everything was pitch perfect. I knew it would be fun, but I also knew it might be the last time I’ll ever do it. I really didn’t want to take any chances and botch this one time event in my life. I knew if I did, my confidence might evaporate like milk and cookies on Christmas eve.
Was it good? That my dear readers, will always remain the unanswered question. For the measure of greatness is based solely on an opinion of the receiver of your efforts. You might think you’re the bomb, and that the King will need to take advise from you, whilst in reality you suck like a brand new vacuum cleaner. You’ll never really know, but is that important? Do we really care if we’re good or bad? Is it not the process that’s gratifying instead of the final result?
I was invited as a co-author of an amazing blog: The official How to blog. (Damn I wish I came up with that name) I was really shocked to be invited and the invitation took a while to sink in. The wife, called me three times and rushed into our study concerned that I might have finally gotten that square eyes-condition she’s been threatening me with lately. Shock eventually gave way to surprise and then to appreciation. The fact that someone out there wants me to post on their site is quite the compliment, don’t you think? But that’s where it had to stop, for appreciation can turn into vanity in milli-seconds. Yes, that feeling of being on top of the world, only to find yourself drowning, clinging to a door in icy water, a mere two hours later.
I suddenly had an irrational fear to post. Do I really need a new audience? Why would I want to leave my safe haven, where I know some people like me? The reply came quickly, echoing loudly in the empty corners of my mind. Sometimes we have to. Sometimes we need to challenge ourselves. Sometimes we need to do new things. Sometimes we have to stand naked on a stage and face the possibility of being pelted with heaps of rotten fruit.
So I took the plunge and posted. I took the risk of being arrested by the Humour cops of the blogosphere for being mediocre and unfunny. I just love to write. Must admit when I finally got my shit together, I still jumped with a parachute. A reworked, previous post parachute. I was hoping the landing would be softer.
In the flurry of writing this piece, I apologize for those who might have expected a detailed point-by-point report on some other first time event in my life, but please note it’s a blog for my kids, and I’m not sure if they would want to know every first thing that occurred in my life. Besides I couldn’t help myself, as I was watching the whole season 3 of Game Of Thrones in two days. The result of this overload is that one does expect some arbitrary sexual reference in any conversation you might have, even with yourself. But that is the only downfall for exposing myself to some mind-blowing television.
Point is, check it out, please and leave a comment, for I really need to know if I’m a stud muffin, Don Juan or if I’m just a little bit too quick…and the best people to ask are my regular customers…