Complex Numbers

What I'm Doing Here

The more I write, the more I want to write.

Honestly, I thought it would be the other way around. I expected that by committing to blogging again after so many years, it would burn me out, run me out of ideas. But the opposite has happened.

I should have known better, really. When I'm stuck and I want to write, I do what I call a core dump (because I'm a Unix geek from way back) - take a blank file and just start typing, stream of consciousness stuff, nothing I'd ever show anyone else. It's just to get my thoughts out there instead of circling around in my head, freeing my mind for the task or goal I've set. I don't even worry too much about typos in a core dump, which should tell you something; I don't like to display misspellings and grammar problems in what I write. Oh, I know they get through often enough, but normally I avoid them like the outdoors. Point is, a core dump is a very different thing from a blog entry, but they do have one thing in common: after getting my thoughts out, new ones inevitably pop up.

Naturally, I haven't done anything about this yet.

The main difference between a core dump and a blog entry is audience. Although I write both primarily for myself, with a core dump, I know that no one will see it (or at least I hope not). With something like this, there's always the knowledge in the back of my mind that someone might actually read it. Maybe even someone I know nothing about. Will I offend someone? Am I revealing too much of myself? Not enough? Will they skim the boring parts, like I do when I read someone else's writing?

The blogs I follow offsite are done by people with deep knowledge of a particular field, notably astronomy and biology. I dislike watching videos for the most part, because it's harder to skim the boring parts. I shun podcasts as well; hell, I've never heard a single podcast. I read, and therefore, I write.

I also avoid Twatter and Failbook. The latter has turned into something reminiscent of MySpace pages back in the noughties, with shit blinking and moving around; it's annoying. And the former is like arguing with bumper stickers. The first I heard of Tweeter was when a friend of mine told me that some guy had rigged his office chair to Twit every time he farted, and nothing I've heard about that platform since then has led me to believe that it's gotten any classier. Yeah, yeah, I know there's an art to writing with a limited number of characters; it's just that, usually, I need more depth.

And that's my problem when it comes to putting my own thoughts out there: I lack depth of knowledge on any subject, having spent my life preferring to know a little bit about a lot of things rather than a lot about one thing. The only exception is civil engineering, but that was my career and I don't really want to write about the intricacies of parking lot design.

My approach does have its advantages, though; as a writer, I like to make connections between unrelated topics. "Write what you know" doesn't mean to limit yourself to stuff you already know; it's an exhortation to broaden your own pool of knowledge. Sure, there are some topics that attract me more than others, but I try not to miss an opportunity to increase my understanding of something. I've said this before, but there's no such thing as useless knowledge.

And my hope is that I make people think - and laugh.