The Blogger’s Brain

By Jim Hagarty
2016

I have been a blogger since April. It has been a fascinating few months.

But I noticed something today. Gradually, I guess, my life has become one constant potential blog entry. I go through my days now, iPhone at the ready, on the lookout for possible photos to take that I could post later.

Also, every conversation I have with another human during my days is evaluated on the basis of whether or not I should convert this short back and forth blab into a story for the blog.

Whenever I read some news on the several Internet sites I peruse during the day, I think to myself, “I have an opinion on that. I should probably write about it on my blog.”

Someday, as they are frantically wheeling me down a hall in the hospital to try to save me from the several debilitating ailments I expect to befall me at any time now, I will think, “This would make a great story for my blog.”

I have mentioned a few times that I have, not so much a brain, as an obsessive organ inside my head that fixes like a laser on a thing and won’t let go. It has been sort of like a circulating radar apparatus, searching the skies for some input.

One day in April, my radar brain picked up some faint signals from the blogosphere. They grew in itensity. Now I am trapped.

Help me!

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.