No. 2

This is the introduction.

Last spring I had the perfect idea. Well truthfully, I had the perfect name for an idea. I always seem to find perfect names first. The idea will work itself out of the name, I tell myself. Anyway, I set out to share my discovery with everyone I met, just let it ease into conversation as if it were another of my great projects, no greater or worse than my suggested vast body of work.

"Yeah, I'm gonna work on my documentary this summer." That was the idea that had begun poking its head out that fragile shell of a name. "It's gonna be about the prejudice and psychological hardship associated with growing a beard." Perfectly ridiculous, and said with exaggerated pretentiousness.

"Oh, and it's gonna be called Beard Summer."

That was the punchline.

Of course, the summer came and went and Beard Summer remained untouched other than one decently awesome interview and one pathetic attempt at something resembling investigatory journalism. The documentary was never meant to be made. I only attempted filming it because the hype I had so carefully crafted was beginning to turn on me, to infect me as well. Yet the summer came and went and I was left feeling unsatisfied. Unsatisfied that I had failed to realize a joke that had become a promise.

What really rattled me was not what I had failed to complete: as I said before, Beard Summer was never meant to actually be filmed. What rattled me was that this situation was all too familiar of the many endeavors I actually planned to see into fruition but had let die prematurely. I could easily have shrugged off the Beard Summer incident if it were merely a single failure in my vast body of work, but it instead only reminded me of my tradition of speaking without doing.

When I decided to make a blog, I had trouble deciding upon a name. I finally settled upon that perfect name I had discovered the year prior. The feeling of failure had subsided - for the most part - and after all I still liked the name. But as time passed and I had still not added anything to the blog, I saw the irony in what I had done. It was as if I had placed a curse on the blog by attaching the name! I had unknowingly doomed it to die!

Just recently my mind returned to the idea of a blog. I remembered the blog I had given the death curse. Then I thought, why does it have to be a curse? What makes the name so ironic? Whenever I'm reminded of Beard Summer I sigh, laugh, and silently vow not to make such a fuss about my grand projects. The name, I decided, would be an excellent tool in reminding myself not to be such a dang fool.

Thus the blog was resurrected (is there anyone still reading this?). It now serves the purpose of tracking my progress and holding myself accountable for actually doing something with my life that isn't looking up random articles on Wikipedia. In continuing this blog I hereby vow to ensure none of my plans fall into a state of Beard Summer. If the blog itself succumbs to such a state, then I have surely failed in any and all plans contained herein, and I will be subjected to the most terrifying of all punishments: having a team of trained kittens lick my nipples off.

Alright then, let's go!