Writing your first blog entry is like being on stage in front of a microphone in an empty auditorium. There’s no audience, nothing but the sound of your own voice echoing through infinity. And you’re hoping that a custodian or something happens to overhear your monologue and takes an interest. Then, before you know it, you’ve got a loyal following of … lazy janitors in a filthy auditorium.
If St. Augustine had an illegitimate son in the days prior to becoming a saint, and said offspring was raised by a pack of three-toed sloths, and fed a steady diet of paint chips, and was often kicked in the head by the bull he regularly tried to milk, you might end up with me. Actually, there’s no relation whatsoever between Augustine and I, I must confess. So there you have it, my first confession. Now Augustine and I have at least that much in common.