Why This Blog Exists (Or More Aptly, A Meandering Beginning)

I was told once, by a friend with whom I spent 6 months in a college classroom, that I always look at life and ask "why?"

A desirable trait, presumably--one that will, at best, arm me with the requisite knowledge and wisdom to ensure that all endeavours which follow this why-asking impregnable beacon of reason will subsequently aspire to some greater prospect of meaning, or meaningFul-Ness.

A neurotic habit, actually--typical of your regular twentysomething existentialist; one for whom all new endeavours must subject themselves to the the arbitrary rigors of the Test for Meaning and Purpose (Because Art is long and Time is fleeting).

It is in honour of this desirable trait or neurotic tradition that this post exists.

This Post, in turn, inaugurates this Blog (as a conglomeration of Posts, as of now still a question of Potentiality). The latter owes its existence to a need for an outlet for gratuitous capitalizations, misplaced wit, a latent yearning to spill the quill and ink in full unmitigated alacrity, and a nostalgia for J. Alfred Prufrock (but incidentally an ill-informed reviling of anything else T.S. Eliot (those ghastly Cats!)). More importantly, this blog owes its existence to Jin's patient prodding, Megan's unassailably artful blog, Sundar's long email detailing the virtues of thoughtful pre-blogging, and incidentally, Sheena's crazy mention for which I intend to repay in kind (venerable Sheena, orator and doctor-to-be, surely such imperfection as will be so flagrantly immortalized here should not be so unjustifiably glorified as perfect).

And in the epic discord between all that this entitlement generation is accused of and this generation's struggle for perfection, it is this one quaint, breathtaking project and its progenitor's memoirs that have played unwitting accomplice to deeper thoughts of what life after my halcyon days of college should be (some fragment of which will undeniably be captured on this blog). It is quite clear, at this juncture, that I have benefited greatly from seeing the world through some of life's best exemplars and teachers as embodied by my friends. Friends running on the mileage of pure unadulterated ideas and starting startups, friends working for the advancement of communities in some of the harshest parts of the globe closest to conflict, friends making it in cramped apartments in the middle of an opulent Paris, friends combing the bohemian crannies of New York for spontaneous enlightenment that only a city of such breadth and grit can offer, friends dropping everything to live life urgently in the slow, beautiful beats of Buenos Aires that occasionally escalate into a flurry of activity. I take so much pride and delight, vicariously, in these lives from which I learn so much. But while I have often diligently documented and retold the scintillating histories and adventures of others, there is an awakened sense that I too, must stop simply lying in wait: There will never truly be a definite end to all the preparatory brewing in life's mixed vats or a definite starting point to the great party. There is, then, only one imperative--to start carving out your own biography, both alongside and unique from the biographies of others, and to put a personal stake in your own scintillating misadventures, phrased as a series of worthwhile challenges.

Why documentation in a blog, as opposed to, a personal journal? The blog receives its maligned reputation as a sickly platform for narcissists and their (or our) rants--the first formalized embodiment of me-media before its full explosion--for very obvious and justifiable reasons. But for a generation so plugged in to the rampant online feeding frenzy and proliferate digital social communities, one could also argue that the blog is the better medium for our voice: I could embed a widget that (with my consent) automatically pulls in a feed of interesting articles that have been referred to me by friends. I can link to, and share, compelling Internet media and commentary (and note the exodus of beacons of erudition represented by the traditional media such as the New York Times from the offline world into strong online presence). I can have a conversation, as opposed to a one-way rant into a sheet of paper, with friends who blog, comment, and even read, online. Above all, the very possibility of an audience primarily of family and close friends (everything on the Internet is, after all, discoverable) compels the dilettante writer in me to occasionally emerge from her impervious shell.

So here it is. (They say that whatever you put up on the World Wide Web sticks around to haunt you). Visions and revisions of a small, documented sum of experiences, ruminations, and observations, interspersed with (I suspect) a hefty dose of the timeless appeal of things that are just outright cool--things that this intensely networked, media-savvy generation has birthed. The spirit of one's own times, if you will.

Stay tuned.