If you've known me (or read my blog) for any length of time you know I have a bad case of broken-record syndrome. I like books. I like dismantling society. I like Rich Mullins.
It doesn't help that my vocabulary tends to run in circles. I like vague, squishy words such as beauty, or truth, or real. I teeter between the poetically profound and the peculiarly preposterous. (And I suppose I should admit an alliteration addiction, as well.)
My number one writing aid? Thesaurus.com, by an embarrassingly wide margin. Secret of the just-add-water pundit? None other than the venerable and indispensable Wikipedia.
Really, to be shallow is no crime. Oswald Chambers put it well on the 22nd: even the ocean has a shore. (Sometimes, of course, we may need to verify whether the shore has an ocean.)
Sometimes I think the reader's patience must be the eighth wonder of the world. There is certainly plenty of typographical turbulence around here. It must be supremely frustrating to be bored as bananas one day and startled out of your skin the next. To simply be interesting is not as easy as it sounds. And as for originality, forget it. There's nothing new under the sun, and no one knows it better than the pioneer. (Not to mention the large degree of mutual exclusivity between education and originality.)
But we don't appreciate people primarily for being original; we appreciate them for being themselves. We love the baker, not because he is always busy mixing up some new recipe, but simply because he makes really good bread.