conflating genres

in my day job’s professional organization’s newsletter, blogging was one of the main topics in the quarterly issue. the article had a wary tone on the subject of bloggers breaching the norms in confidentiality agreement that may occur in relaying messages in the networking sites. yes, blogging is a very cathartic exercise, an outlet of expression, to create something out of nothing, to examine the cherished existence and transform the parcels of a lifetime into somewhat literate words and paragraphs. but as my saying goes, talking shop is not that exciting, it's never dull either as it is an anthropological center, a melting pot of various entities and my colleagues are perhaps the hardest working people in the world. nonetheless, it's like any other zone, littered with protocols and sensorial to a few bits and bobs, especially proffering entries in a blog page.

on a subject that is far less interesting to all my people-person confidantes is tiger woods missing the cut at the Open. bummer. we don't usually see tiger struggle with bogeys and double-bogeys but he toiled and exerted in windy turnberry and ended up with nothing. next stop is hazeltine, on august 13-16. don't tell me that it's the same date as the pearl jam concert?

bearing witness to a concert of one of the hottest bands ever may probably be farthest from the thoughts of one crestfallen friend. i tried to encourage her to try to bury herself in books and magazines to get over her setback. i know reading a book or just reading, who cares if it's a crappy palimpsest, has been given a bad rap, an unfair assessment by extroverts from yonder and beyond the numbers of friends in facebook and others. but all my efforts would be for naught. the quirks would separate kin ships, some enjoy company, others like me wallow and kick up heels to imbibe the vigor of words through reading, through writing.