I hate having to write. Always have. I love to write. It’s, absolutely, my life’s calling. I’ve known it since I was eight years old. The main issue that kept me from truly pursuing it professionally being, as I wrote, that I hate having to do it. I want to write, when I want to write, and not when someone tells me.
(Incidentally, this attitude is exactly why I flunked the test on "Wuthering Heights" in 11th grade and then surprised everyone years later when I finally picked up the book and ended up loving it. Don’t tell me to read a book; I’ll read it when I’m damn good and ready. But I digress.)
Having a blog, much to my surprise, has caused people to expect me to, not only write daily, but on demand. Especially about the specific games go to. If you’re a regular visitor here, you might notice that I don’t get into a lot of details about those games. Fiction has always been my forte, non-fiction is for those with good memories or at least the foresight to write things down as they happen. I have neither of these.
It isn’t that I don’t want to share my experiences as much as it’s a lot of work for me to get these memories out of my head and into coherent paragraphs that make sense to someone other than myself. So I usually give the wildly condensed versions here.
But tonight that changes. A little. I had a fabulous weekend in Baltimore and I want to share the experience. So I’m going to break down the days and write as much as I can remember, hopefully not missing too much.
Fair warning, some of it will be non baseball-related, but I want a record of it all. So here it will be.
Oh, and by the way, 3 out of 4 in Baltimore – woo-hoo, baby!