Trolling the Blog

First anythings are always paralzying. Perhaps my greatest fear as an artist is that first crisp, pristine, pure white page in a sketchbook, a book previously unmarred by my imperfect and clumsy strokes. To defile it would be travesty; and so I wrack my brains for a suitable tribute towards The Beginning, the page to preface all other pages.

Three hours later, I continue to stare at a blank page, my pencil posed half-way in fear, hovering above the virgin fibers.

Or when writing a paper for class, the hardest thing to do is punch out those first faltering words to the opening paragraph. After all, it only declares my thesis, the very nucleus which all other verbal protons and electrons spin around, the anchor of the literary masterpiece swimming merrily within the cerebral fluid of the brain. That is, assuming I even have an idea to begin with. I spend days in denial, dreading my confrontation with it, until finally I am forced several hours before class to smash out a grade A paper on the keyboard, watching frantically as the screen fills with my desperate writings and babblings.

Better yet, consider the first date, the first kiss, the first anything in that maddeningly confusing world of romance. So much pressure and idealistic dreaming is attached to these events in life. The Disney Channel and other tween-catering mediums constantly remind those unfortunate enough to believe that having a less-than-fairy-tale Prom will ensure a miserable existence of disappointments, bitterness, and at some point, a fatal cocaine overdose while wandering homeless on the streets of Portland, Oregon.

My first kiss mirrored such sentiments. Though I was first to initiate, the first thirty seconds I distinctly remember the very real feeling of rigor mortis as my brainstem shut down all involuntary functions such as breathing and heart beats, in hopes that I could starve my cerebellum from oxygen and die right at that moment so I don't make a mistake, except for leaving my poor girlfriend-to-be with a rather cold, stiff corpse on her hands (and lips).

And who can but sigh at the horrible "first comic" jokes webcomic artists plague their websites with? There is no such thing as a witty first comic joke. Any attempt at it is simply silly and rather juvinile. After all, wonder for a second what the fates of the acclaimed comic strip Peanuts would be had Charles Schulz for his first one, instead of producing his incredibly famous and biting commentary on the two-faced side of human nature, drew Charlie Brown surfing and trolling the message boards of Megatokyo, waiting for Fred to post his latest creation so that he could write on the newly created thread, "First p0st!"

And so I struggle with my first entry in this epic tome of words which shall forever be known as "Ted's blog." Indeed, a volume of literature so mighty that it had even Troy, self proclaimed blog-hater, to read it from time to time, simply so that he'd have more things to make fun of me for, namely, my opinions.

What does one write? What does one talk about? Perhaps I could write about how my girlfriend's mother gave me an offer I couldn't refuse - her approval for a night watching Pride and Prejudice (the one with Kiera Knightly in it) with her and her daughter, or about how my Georgian (the European one, not the Southern one) employee was hitting on my Japanese exchange student employee which caused some hilarious culture clashes. Or I simply muse about my thoughts concerning BYU culture and its promotion of mediocrity and materialism, when its mission should be the complete opposite. Something silly, or something serious? And dare I even profane the sacred first entry with a simple story of the mundane? Or should I write an impassioned sermon that would cause the most hardened demogogue to cringe at its horrifically manipulative rhetoric for some social cause I have decided to champion? Such thoughts and questions would cause even the greatest Hellenistic philosopher's head to spin. After all, the fate of the Free World may or may not rest in this decision.

But now, I simply terminate my agony by, as Hamlet would say, "tak[ing] arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them." I struggle, nay, I weep, as I contemplate furiously the cornucopia of stories and ideas I could use in my first entry. But in the end, I am reduced to such vulgar and Proletariat concepts, of which I humbly submit to the Blogger and internets community:

woot!!!1 first p0st! lawlz!!!11