It’s not about what’s happening right now. I mean, it is. It always is. But not always. Does that make sense?

Writing is the thing that keeps me sane. If I’m doing it on a regular basis, all other aspects of my life seems to make sense. I imagine other people have that with other things, but honestly I’m not sure because (here’s that caveat again), I can only, truly, honestly, speak for me and my world.

But here’s the thing. When I write about something heartfelt, really and truly heartfelt, you have to imagine that it’s like spy tech. As in, it’s existed for some time now, it’s not new. Savvy?

This may or may not be true, I don’t know, I’m not a spy. (Though if I were, I would probably insist that I wasn’t because that’s how spies work.) However, it is my belief that when some new awesome tech becomes available for the every day human, whether it be fingerprint recognition scanning devices (my fucking phone has one! I’ve not used it) or chip technology or hoverboards or cars that drive themselves or sentient robots that make us coffee and remind us we have a dentist appointment (I, for one, welcome our new robot overlords), I have to imagine that tech has become available because the secret actual-in-charge of the world guys have already had it for at least 10 if not 20 years.

That was a convoluted way of saying, if you’re reading something on my blog that is intense and heartfelt and seems raw and painful, chances are I’ve been dealing and processing it for some time and have only now reached a point where I can express how I feel about it coherently and with clarity.
I mention it because I’ve had more than a couple of folks express concern that I might be going through something, as a result of recent posts I’ve made. When something happens, if it’s something that is powerful enough that I need to take a couple of steps back, that will most likely happen on paper.
I will bleed ink from every pore in an attempt to carve sense out of whatever might be happening for me, because that’s how my brain rids itself of infection. It’s like when a cut hasn’t been cleaned properly, the best thing to do is to open it up and let it flow freely until the poison is gone and there is only healthy red blood welling to the surface.

And then, once I’ve gained some perspective, I’ll probably share it here, if only to be completely candid and accountable about my evolution in real time. And not just for those who might be curious about what’s going on for me, but for myself. Having a chronicle of one’s existence is an incredible resource. I’m consistently delighted by the forward motion of my perspective most days.
Now, that’s not to say that I’m not well enamoured of the friends that check in, and please don’t ever stop doing so because I really do appreciate it but know that if you’re reading it here, it’s doubly good because a) it means I’m writing and b) it means that I’ve processed it enough to get to a good enough place to have made peace with whatever might have needed dealing with.