Rampage of the Virgin Page

Fuzzy mitten warm greetings to visitors to my brand-spanking-new blog spot!

Nothing is more frightening, yet hopeful, than the blank page. In in lay promise of greatness (if only grasped), of aspirations filled, (if only pursued), and of satisfaction (if only completed).
In sort, it's a chasm of possibility, a microcosmic specimen of infinity, a veritable paradisaical entrance to the divine.

"Ohmy!" those who approach it gasp and fold onto a bare Ikea hardwood floor like a puddle of quivering Jell-o. "It's so white!"

Here it's good to note: such reflection should remain brief.

It's true, the moment the page is marked, it is no more what it was. A bold line or a coarse word or even a little bitty half-squiggle of the letter "a" in the lightest stroke of number 2 pencil instantly rejects certain possibilities and begins definition of What It Will Be. Horrifying for those in doubt. Terrifying for those with commitment issues on any scale. Petrifying to those with aspirations of grandeur and deep-seated fears of failure. And to all those I remind: erasers leave their mark in they very fibers of papyrus. Bwa-ha-ha-ha!

"Will this mental Halloweenish rampage of the virgin page never end?"

I think ... perhaps.

Not?

I dunno.

But thank God for Delete buttons and the electronic age.

And Post-it Notes. I feel really good about Post-it Notes.

Onward!