I laid in bed last night, thinking about this blog. It was out there. Where anyone could see it. Just lying there, sprawled in the effluvia of it's graceless exit from the interwomb, and I began to wonder what exactly I was trying to accomplish by creating it.
Was it some kind of monumental ego trip? Now, I'm no slouch when it comes to self-appreciation—I self-appreciate daily—but I certainly don't believe what I have to say is so entertaining that the world needs a special place they can check in and get the steady updates of smart/witty/funny wordmurder straight from my diseased, scrotum-shaped brain. Except, maybe I do.
I do know that I want to use this space as a big ass sandbox where I can build word-castles and frolic through the dunes, hunting sandsharks with my rabid pet panda, Pho Ming. I want to write ridiculous shit that makes me laugh, but I also want to say something more important than, “Fart, fart, ass, fart, pthbbbbbt!”
Aren't those worthwhile reasons to write a blog? It's not a totally ego driven endeavor, right? Wrong. It's still just me self-appreciating all over the web; thinking my shit belongs out there, baking in the sun, for everyone to get a good whiff of so they can savor the complexity. “I do believe I'm picking up a hint of bourbon mixed with the delicate spice notes of a Taco Bell seven layer burrito.”
So, lying in bed, having determined that this is all one big masturbatory euphemism, I thought about article ideas. I realized I have no good ones. I shat myself.
I had no idea what I was going to write about, but as I stripped the sheets off the bed it came to me in a rush of inspiration(panic!). The beginning. I should start at the beginning! And what could be more beginning than the title? Besides, what the flying football does Latent Ambiguity mean anyway? I know what I wanted it to mean, but I admit to having thought of those two words while staring at a blank box demanding that I name my blog. I didn't know. What did I want to call it? The Limburger Chronicles? Nah, too cheesy. Ethereal Musings? Nuh-uh, not enough substance. The Gyno-Chair? Ehhhh, seems kinda cold and uninviting. Shitty Puns? Hey! That just might wor—no, no, its all shit. IT'S ALL SHIT!!
Then, in a moment of inspiration(panic!) a random word combination entered my mind and I jabbed at the keyboard with my thumbless mitts until I had titled my blog.
Latent Ambiguity. Sure, why not? It makes me think of chaos coated in a thin veneer of order. Like a patch of thin ice. Everything looks nice and solid, so you take a step, and now you're in over your head, thrashing around in the frozen dark. And there are things down there. And they have teeth.
Or, maybe its like some kind of social disorder. Thousands of people every year, stricken with Latent Ambiguity; never knowing when it will rear its sort-of-not-so-great-looking head. I think Schrodinger had it.
Schrodinger: “And so you see, we place the cat in the box and close the lid. We then pump a deadly neurotoxin into the box.” *presses button*
Observer: “So, you just killed a cat?”
Schrodinger: “Not exactly.”
Observer: “So it's still alive?”
Schrodinger: “Sort of.”
Observer: "Riiight."
Still, I had no idea. For all I knew I could have just named my blog after some kind of shitty homosexual vampire fan-fic. So, I Googled it. Turns out, my subconscious is a seriously boring motherfucker.
Here's the definition:
A latent ambiguity at first appears to be an unambiguous statement, but the ambiguity becomes apparent in the light of knowledge gained other than from the document.
Apparently, Latent Ambiguity is a legal term. More specifically, it's a legal term pertaining to contract law. Contract. Law. The most boring, sterile, and convoluted style of writing in existence. The one thing no one on the planet will voluntarily read, unless you pay them a metric fuck-ton of money, and I name my happy-go-lucky literary sandbox after it. Sheesh.
I would like to take this time to welcome all of the paralegals and contract lawyers who have found this blog. Tell your friends!
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