Todd Terwilliger

I’m sitting here, drinking a cup of Gold Kili instant Chocolate Latte which, frankly, tastes in the neighborhood of chocolate but nothing near a latte, and I’m wondering about this impromptu seven month hiatus I’ve found myself on. There must be a reason, right? Some deep movement in my emotional, sub-conscious tectonic core? No… At least, I don’t think so. That’s the short answer. I have longer answers, of course.

I’ve come to a decision. I do not like the term, “blogger”. I don’t know what, exactly, a “weblog” is but I don’t like it. Okay, I know what a weblog is as a practical matter but what is it, really? I’m not logging webs or webbing logs. I’m not keeping a log of the web nor keeping a web of a log. I’ve seen logs, loafs, bars, and loads, and my interest in them is, at best, tangential. The only webs I’m interested in are the spun-out lairs of the spiders in my bathroom and what interest I had in those I have already expressed. No, whatever currency the term “weblog” had with me is spent. I must define myself elsewhere.

Things have been quiet lately around here, the sort of eerie quiet that inspires tales of death or, in my case, extreme apathy. However, in this particular case, nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, things are slogging steadily ahead here at Terwilliger HQ. Like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory after Slugworth’s betrayal, the gates are closed but the chimneys, productively and, perhaps, ominously, are still billowing with a hidden feverish activity.