Must... Fight...

..the urge to post every other minute. It's just too easy.

I'm writing this on my Treo 650 on Adams and Canal, waiting for the no. 7 westbound. I *heart* technology. I know the whole blogging-on-the-spot thing came and went two years ago, but this time I promise it's different. This time it's me. I've got a web-enabled cell phone with a thumb keyboard sending off emails to a server that automatically processes the subject and text into title and post. If I see anything interesting, I'll snap a shot with my 640x480 phone cam and upload it to a different server, which will then dump it into the same weblog.

Probably, you've heard that one before.

I've got a college education, and before that, a high school one. I studied creative writing and then went on to become, in no particular order, a secretary, a graphic designer, a comedian, a network administrator, a draftsperson, a dishwasher, a Ghostbuster-wannabe, a 1920's-style Newsie, a driver, insurance underwriter processor, cat provider and husband. At some point, I plan to become a father.

And yet, that doesn't necessarily make me very interesting, does it? Certainly not to me. I'd rather read a good book than spend too much time rattling around in my own head. One of the hardest times in my life was training for the 1995 Cleveland marathon without benefit of a music player that could play more than one tape at a time. One of the best: running for hours listening to my iPod. Nothing distracts you from excruciating back-thigh-ankle-arch pain like a shuffle from A-ha to Tori Amos. And, no, I do not consider them to be mutually exclusive.

Still, I guess what makes me interesting is that I'm interested. I want to know. If you're reading this, I want to know about you, and if we're all a bit lucky, I'll shoehorn you in here in words. Then, we can all participate in Andy Warhol's fifteen minute future.