right from the start

I have given in to the urge to put together a sort of 2008 blog recap. Following in the footsteps of Mad, Magpie, Bea and Holly, I present to you the opening sentence of each first post of the month. (Or in some cases, a sentence fragment. Because I like sentence fragments.) (And I’ve also put the post title.)(In parentheses.)(Because I like parentheses.)

January: We’re back home now, as promised. (back home and such)

February: Bear with me. (grrr)

March: It was snowing heavily when I woke up this morning. (more than one way to shovel a driveway)

April: From the AP article: The Johns Hopskins University Center for Human Health and Technology Studies issued a report last Friday indicating that individuals participating in activities relating to the internet format of weblogs were at increased risk for a variety of health problems, including rickets, schistosomiasis, kuru, high blood pressure, Omphaloskepsis, and vitamin D deficiency. (Studies Elucidate Health Risks Associated with Common Blogging Practices)

May: Today is the first day of May, or May Day. (flower power)

June: Tomorrow I will eat a chocolate bar for breakfast. (chocolate: it’s what’s for breakfast)

July: Summer is here, at least for those of us up on this side of the equator. (the pants of our discontent)

August: It’s been one of those weeks. (juggling acts)

September: So, here we are, 10 days later. (10 days later)

October: Ah. (the sound of two hands typing)

November: In addition to NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), I’ve decided to participate in NaNaGaMo, National Navel-Gazing Month. (NaNaGaMo begins)

December: A certified spoon-free post! (NaBloPoMoPoMo)

What this excercise has demonstrated to me is that my posts tend to lack interesting beginnings. I’d like to say that I’ll work on getting more interesting “hooks” for my posts. However, if I were to agonize about the beginnings of my posts, I would likely collapse in a heap of debilitating self-awareness.

On the other hand, I could try starting with the right opening sentences, and then work my way from there. What my openers above clearly lack, aside from elements that might intrigue a reader, is pants.

I offer to you an alternate universe list of post openers:

January: The moment I walked in the room, I realized that I had worn entirely the wrong pair of pants.

February: Hell hath no fury like a woman pantsed.

March: You would not believe the number of people who have been trying to get into my pants this week.

April: Today I invented a novel way of wearing pants.

May: You can tell a lot about people from their body language, or from going through the contents of their pants pockets.

June: I can’t remember where I left my pants last night.

July: Shakespeare knew a thing or two about writing, but from what I’ve heard, he was a bit lacking in the pants department.

August: My love of pants may finally have gotten me in trouble with the law.

September: Last night I found a mysterious message, a poetic missive written in an elegant hand, stuck to the seat of my pants.

October: On beautiful Fall days like this, I sometimes gaze out the window at the leaves falling gracefully from the trees and the pants falling clumsily from the waistlines of the passersby.

November: I’ve signed on for NaPaWriMo (National Pants Writing Month) this year, which means that every day for this whole month, I’ll be joining the ranks of those who can’t help but write about pants.

December: Today turned out to be an unfortunate day to go outside without my pants.