We've been debating the value of blogs at work... who reads them, who has time to write them, if you write a blog don't you have anything better to do, and generally "who cares what you think". I'd love to keep up with a blog a day about knitting and bellydancing, and be eligible to joins one of those knit-rings. As it is, I'm jotting down life minutae, maudlin musings, and pictures that appeal to me. Nobody really knows I'm here, no-one can connect this blog to the real flesh and blood me that loves parts of my family, goes to work, has friends, and generally fumbles through it all. I think writing a blog is akin to emailing a friend, takes about the same amount of time. Blither to anyone who doesn't know you. So when the kid in Montreal shoots up Dawson CEGEP (my sister's alma mater), what is left of him but a blog with creepy pictures and less than an explanation for why you're so angry and disenfranchised that you'd shoot some innocent little girl dead (and not the "villified" jock). Maybe we would have all been better off if he'd shared his head and heart with a person in flesh, and not a fantasy community of pixels. yeah, yeah, debate media, inernet isolation, idle youth. Just look someone in the eye today. Like my dear departed good boy Mason. xxx