I received three emails today asking me why I changed the name of this blog.
i a odd ball? one person asked. What is that?
That does not make any sense, I like Absurdistry better, another person wrote.
The grammar “i a odd ball” is all wrong (like so much else of what you write), is all another email said.
I don’t know. The name change of this blog is so unimportant that I do not even know why I am writing about it. I suppose I have nothing else to write about. I mean, I have things that I could write about, but I do not want to. I tried. I wrote several potential posts and then deleted them. I wrote a post called Why My German Shepherd Is Just Like A Black Man and then I deleted it. I wrote something else called The End Of Unhappiness and then deleted that because, well, I felt like it was too darn depressive. I’m trying to not be so depressive, even though I realize this may mean that what I have left to say might be rather dull. For some reason the depressive often makes for good literature and I am trying to find a decent balance between the two. I also know that people I know read this blog and I dont want to worry them too much.
Anyways, I changed the name of this blog to i a odd ball. A month or so ago I was on a walk. I walked through a park that was right besides an elementary school. I came across a piece of white paper on the ground with i a odd ball written on it. I assumed that the piece of paper slipped out of some kids backpack since it looked like a kids handwriting. I picked up the piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket. The other day I took it out and put it on my desk. And that is how it came to be.