At my desk, contorted by my ergonomic back-saving "kneeling chair", I can both write and simultaneously respond to my own inner mental critic, who constantly badgers me about talking to myself mentally whilst typing. What I write about doesn't matter so much. Whether the subject matter be politics, food, local events, or technology, the internet has become an integral facet of my internally managed outspoken messenger. Yes, you can be anything you want, just like they told you when you were a kid.
What they failed to mention was that your crowd and your followers would all be witness to your greatness, via computer monitors and cell phones.
A dim flourescent lamp is all that provides me with enough light to do my magic. In front of me, an LCD monitor and a keyboard become my 21st century typewriter, and a high speed internet connection becomes the paperboy who would deliver my words of inspiration to the masses, all of whom are yearning for my immense insight and literary wisdom. Please, no applause.
It would be at this point that I phase out of my temporary dream, and realize that I am merely an engineer who aspires to be many other things. Yet, I can be all of these things through the written word; a vessel of typewritten knowledge and banter that tickles the mind, or in some cases pokes a sharp stick at it annoyingly.
I can be a food critic, discussing the latest trends in fantastic local foods and eateries. I can be a political pundit, voicing my approval or disgust of the powers that govern the country also known as America. I can be a technology insider, explaining to the world how things work and why new technology will both save us as a society, and stamp us out as a race. I can be teacher, sharing my insight into what makes the world spin, and how to get rid of that nasty spaghetti sauce stain. The list is almost endless. Just like my own misguided admiration of myself.
What lies between my ears is a treasure trove of information, advice, perspective, humor, empathy, and hope. A writer could really benefit from a package like mine. Perhaps no better than a Mark Twain, but a hell of a lot more interesting than a 4 year old, writing takes me to places I could never be physically or legally.
4 year olds can write, can't they?
I love the way that the internet delivers my words, so painlessly - without judgement, without selection, without forethought... the same way I decide what to wear to work. If its clean, its what I'm wearing. Thank goodness for the badly-dressed-engineer stereotype. The internet just spits out everything that shows up on it. I think the web SHOULD be this way, and in fact it is the biggest reason why I can be whatever I want to; because my audience can be whatever they want, without being spoon-fed, or being taught-what-to-believe, or even being "intelligent".
In these technological times of inspiration, where people grasp at any means by which they can find some useful information, or entertaining thoughts, or even a dose of self-perspective "you're really not that bad afterall" atta boy wisdom, I can be the messenger; the deliverer of all that is good, all that is right, all that is mindlessly self-serving. The technology of the world wide web gives this to us, this ability to transform ourselves into our ideal virtual embodiment, and we should embrace it whole-heartedly, like embracing the concept of hybrid cars, or world peace, or the idea that Lindsay Lohan might one day tweet something intelligent. [It requires some interpretation, and maybe some alcohol, to fully understand].
So look into yourself and see what you can become. The web is an open door that invites you to share your "being" with the world, to show the world what insights you can generate, to offer yourself to the world on a silver platter, in all of your literary goodness. No matter what the subject matter, you can be whatever you want.
This is the magic of technology!