Irony

 I have noticed the changing of names for certain actions/objects to make them either less objectionable or to vilify them. Take assault rifle as a prime example. Despite the fact that there is officially no such thing, ask anyone well informed about the subject, many people immediately picture an Ar style rifle. It's black and scary, spewing bullets everywhere, an instrument of death! Back a few years ago if the word drag was used it meant something entirely different than today! And Trans meant Transformers, the cartoon show where a semi-truck turned into Optimus prime. Not what comes to mind when we hear about Trans in the news today. There are a number of others, but you get what I mean. You can call a tax a fee, but it costs you exactly the same. 

 That is something I get annoyed with, that changing of names. But I'm guilty of it too. Over eleven years ago I began writing what I called a blog. I've been calling it a blog ever since. The platform I'm using is called Blogger and Blogspot. I tell people I write a blog. Turns out the reality is this, I write essays. I'm an essayist. That is what these daily writings should be called, essays. I read where a blog should be focused on a single topic. Typically, it is associated with a business, news to me. I'm not in the business of anything and certainly I'm not focused. Focused or a fanatic? Those are words that can get easily confused. Now that I've come to realize what I have been writing does change things somewhat. I'm not blogging at all.

 When I first began the intent was just to share my memories, share some thoughts of mine and possibly entertain others. Of course, the hope was to be accepted. I've had moderate success in that department. Turns out some folks don't agree with my central philosophy. To tell you the truth I'm not surprised. But I do what I can to help those folks along, you know the old saying; you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink. Then I thought all these writings would provide a sort of record. My descendants may find them interesting and enjoy reading them. They are filled with historical events unnoticed right now, but thirty years from now? Well, you just never know. I would be interested in firsthand accounts of events written by my ancestors. 

 Now I know they are essays and some short stories. That gives me ideas about what I could do with them. I have quite the collection going. Today is number four thousand two hundred and sixty. That's a lot of words. I'm thinking maybe I could sort them out a bit, divide them into essays and stories. I think the majority would fall into one of those categories. Essays are generally non-fictional pieces designed to inform or create debate. In my essays I do include my personal opinion, often disguised as a fact. Are opinions fact? No opinions are not fact, although they could be if you can support that opinion with facts. It's murky water for sure. So, I suppose I would have to add a disclaimer. The essays in this volume contain the opinions of the author. Truth is even our stories contain our opinion. We dismiss all of that with the words, my truth. My truth is my opinion, and my opinion is my truth. 

 If someone asked me to name a famous essayist, I wouldn't have an answer. Not one name came to mind. Google to the rescue. Turns out the most famous essayists were known to me as authors. Ralph W Emerson and Robert L Stevenson topping the list I saw. There were other names on that list I hadn't heard about as well. I'm thinking that today essays have been reduced to meme's. Seems to me the most commentary on current events and social attitudes center on them. A lot of folks don't want to read anything longer than a paragraph, and it had better be a short one.

 It's a funny thing. English was one of those subjects in school that I didn't enjoy at all. In fact, ninth grade English is the only course I ever failed. The reason for that failure? At the very beginning of the year, we were given an assignment to write an essay. It would count for a significant portion of your final grade. Yes, had all school year to write that piece and was constantly reminded about it. I did it in the last days of the year and it was terrible! A failure. Combined with my barely passing grades from class work during the year it was dismal. I failed! Deserved to fail too. Made it up the following year though. There was always the dreaded essay question. There would be multiple choice questions followed by an essay. Hated writing those essays. And today I write an essay almost every morning! Go figure. I'm even writing an essay about writing essays. Life sure is strange. Things change and so do names. Strangely however, most things remain the same.