I have always wondered about blogging. I have reached the age of 35 and have found, to my horror, that computers and technology are beginning to pull away from me. I am hoping that this is one of those things that I can change; that somehow, by mastering the art of blogging I will scatter the assault of time on my person for a little while longer. Looking at all the different tabs above - Settings, Layout, Edit Html etc. - it looks as though it will be a long battle.
Fortunately, I have prepared for this battle by considering previous battle I have fought and survived. I say survived, because I am not so sure that I can say that I won too many of them. The old Leaving Certificate exam was one such battle that comes to mind. I was never the greatest of students. In sixth year I paid a good friend of mine to do my French homework for me every mornig before class. It seemed like a good idea at the time even if the friend in question had chosen Latin instead. In spite of my reluctance to participate in the endless ritual of homework, I passed the final exam only to find that in later life I fell in love with France but found it impossible to speak to anyone there! Thankfully the French word for toilet is not too different from the English.
English homework was different. I loved writing. I loved reading. I loved talking about writing and reading and English was the one place where I could do all three. I am sure that I spoke 'an infinite deal of nothing' but those who taught me nodded thoughfully at everything I said and gave me the impression that my opinion counted for something.
That was the important thing. As a teenager I was shy and awkward and I believe that I expressed myself through the writing of others. What I mean by this is that I always seemed to find aspects of the course we studied that related to me and I tackled them with the ferosity of a Munster pack. I understood Hamlet's procrastination (and how I loved to use that word) easily. I recognised the men who 'drank deep and were silent' as a mirror image of myself. Voicing my interpretation of the works in class was, in reality, my attempt to highlight things that were of concern to me.
Over the years I have changed. I still procrastinate, mind you, but I have found new ways to be heard. This blog is going to be my private diary in the public domain, much like the voice of that boy who used to speak-up in English class all those years ago. I hope that if anyone reads this they will enjoy the battle we are about to wage against time. In looking back, I hope to really remember all the emotions that the old Leaving Certificate Course stirred in me. If you like, you can join me. I won't know you're there but I'd appreciate the company.
I hope to post a little section of the old course on here once a week. It might not always work out that way, but when it does it should be a blast. Sometimes it'll be poetry, others prose or Shakespeare. I'll start next week. I even know where I'll begin. The first time I fell in love. Ah...l'amour.
Forward, march!
