What a familiar bottle. I turn it over in my hands as I meander down the beach. Whatever label it had has washed off long ago. Though the weathered glass exterior, I notice the silhouette of a scroll inside. Something about this object hints at an old memory, but I could not quite place it. To sate my curiosity, I pull out some keys and uncork the bottle. As I invert the vessel, the scroll gently slides out. The paper seems aged, but in otherwise good condition. I slip the string off the scroll and gingerly unravel the paper. A sense of disappointment washes over me as I gaze upon the scroll’s short message. It reads “write a blog”.
Blogging is something I always said I’d do. I’ve accumulated a lot of notes over the years, but never set aside time to polish them into publishable pieces. I’ve told people I would be writing a blog for over a year now, yet still haven’t put anything up. Today, that changes. Today, I post.
This post, along with the many others to come, will be about fairly random subjects. Most of it will be derived from notes I’ve kept on hobbies. I don’t want to turn this into a technical blog, but my current lineup of posts does look rather math related. That said, I’m going to cover a broad range of topics so hopefully, you’ll find some interesting tidbits. I may impart some personal opinions on certain topics, so as a disclaimer, the opinions expressed in this blog are solely my own and do not reflect those of the institutions I am affiliated with. I aim to be informative, but this blog is ultimately meant for leisure reading.
I think this project will be amusing for me to look back on. I used to keep a journal of my personal thoughts, but it devolved into a scrapbook of eclectic ideas over time. I plan to renew my journaling habit and start this parallel stream of public writing. So far, it’s been pretty fascinating to reflect on thoughts I’ve had long ago. Reading a journal is like opening a bottled message sent across an ocean of time. Like my journal, I hope this blog ages just as well. After all, it’s a bottle that anyone can pick up.
With a new bottle in hand, I approach the swash and listen to the incoming waves. I give the bottle one last look and wonder if I’ll recognize it the next time I see it. Perhaps only time will tell. On that last thought, I chuck it out to sea. The bottle plops into the rip current and starts drifting towards the endless horizon. Its journey has begun. Between me and the bottle’s next encounter may be rough waters or calm ones, but, whatever the case, I look forward to seeing it again. Travel far, little bottle. Travel well.
anthologen 