No doubt, by now you’re tired of reading about me and my life’s, idiosyncrasies, paranoia, phobias, and deep, emotional flaws. But this is a blog, and really, the only purpose these things serve is to act as an outlet for the writer. It’s not that I don’t care about you. I do. There has just been so much going on that I can’t share with you, as much as I’d like to. I’m still a fucking mess, so, there’s that.
I’ve come to terms with a lot of things simply by putting fingers to keyboard and pecking out words to express how I feel on the inside. Maybe I’ll still be able to connect with you on some level, the same way I did when I was writing about my dad and my journey to accepting his death. Perhaps I’ll be able to get a conversation going similar to the one we had when I wrote about the litigious atheists who I felt were just trying to cause a row – to get a rise out of believers. Will you read if I write, again, about how I have doubts regarding religion; if I make up a story about snowmen and candy canes?
The topics I’ve covered here have been varied, but one thing has been true throughout; I only point fingers at myself…or anonymous groups of people. I don’t want to single anyone out or name names. If I have a beef with you, I’ll say so…to you.
Sure, I’ve not published anything here recently, but I write just about every day. “Yes, I’ll write in your voice and connect with your audience.” There are little bits of every writer’s story hidden among everything he writes. The piece may be about ways to look your best, but that one sentence about how to avoid an embarrassing moment makes me cry because I’ve been there. And I didn’t know about the embarrassment avoidance part.
It’s in my nature to be something I’m not. If you’ve read much of what’s here, you know I’ve done a lot of hiding and pretending. Most of my adolescence was spent trying to fit in with a group of people who didn’t want me, but some variation of me may have been acceptable. I did all I could to find the right version.
The term two-faced has gotten a bad rap. We all have a face we keep in the drawer in case of emergency. Its smile is a bit askew and the eyes are just a little bit darker than normal, but casual onlookers can’t tell the difference. There are myriad reasons we may dust this face off and wear it. Every day I get up, put my best face forward, and greet the world. Sometimes it is my own, but others it’s the one from the second drawer.