About that time again.

I can't honestly say why I'm starting this again.

I've started blogs before. Quite a number in fact. Long, long ago I started an account with Xanga on a whim. It turned out to be nothing further than a few years worth of incessant rants from a sugar-addled high school student at 2 am. I abandoned it midway through college. Partly because of disinterest and partly because it attracted the ire of a vindictive ex-girlfriend.

At some point I picked it up again. This time trying to jump on the trend both feet first. I don't think that's a real expression, but I can live with that. I tried to double post (and sometimes even triple post) between Facebook, Myspace, and LiveJournal. This new generation of blogs cast a pall over the dissonant ramblings of their ancestors, favoring instead the angsty, profane and complacent writing style I used at the time. Admittedly, I feel like it was more of a bid to invite the curious into my world, where I might entrap some of the onlookers to gawk a bit longer. Few did.

As college ended, I funneled any desire to write into four girthy, bitter memoirs of each of the four years of my college experience, two broken relationships, times I wouldn't trade for all the world and times I never want to live through again. But as one can expect, wrestling a behemoth into submission takes a toll on a man. And so I quit writing for a while.

I've always wanted to return to this world, of fake words written on a fake page. But inspiration didn't truly hit me until a wise friend planted that urge to write back into my head. I recently signed myself up for classes to become certified in dog training, a dream of mine for years now, and he suggested I start a blog to document that process. I can't promise you that's what this blog is going to become. Hell, at first I didn't even think I was really going to do it. Something about opening back up to the world again has me hooked at the moment.

This time around, I suppose I'm not here to make friends, or burn off a moderate sugar rush, or shout a long-winded story from a dark room that nobody's listening to.

I guess, this time, I'm here for me.