What compels a person? My guess is that there's as many answers to that question as there are people blogging. You could group these reasons into tidy boxes for sure. But just as there are no two people exactly alike, there are probably no two reasons exactly the same. So, every time I get the urge to post a new blog entry, I wonder: why? What point does it serve? Is it a diary that other people could see if they chose to? Do I spill my deepest most intimate secrets here and derive a little excitement from the fact that these things here, people aren't supposed to know?
It's not so much that I'm asking "What am I supposed to do?" or "What do I want to do?" The question is "Why should I do it?"
Once a philosopher student, always a philosophy student, I suppose.
This was supposed to be a blog entry about the feeling of sitting at a Delta terminal at LAX, waiting for a flight home, an itinerary carefully planned:
Work a full day Friday. Take the red-eye to Cincinnati; catch a connecting flight to Huntsville and be at my brother's house early enough for brunch...well, 'brunch' is not something we do in Tanner, Alabama, but I'd be home around that time nonetheless.
Instead, I'm sitting in at a Delta terminal in LAX waiting on a flight that's been delayed two full hours. This means I WON'T be catching a connecting flight to Huntsville. I'll be catching a connecting flight to Atlanta...and THEN a connecting flight to Huntsville.
So, what started as a blog hastily written to describe the butterflys dancing around in my stomach in anticipation of my first trip home since Christmas has morphed into a labor of boredom, courtesy of Delta Airlines.
I'm done, and I still have two hours to kill.
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