It's like guilt. It begins like a small seed, in theory it's harmless...because, well, it doesn't touch us, not me at least. But it grows malignant and keeps us from seeing inside of ourselves. Worse, it keeps us from doing anything that is insecure, anything that is imaginative or exploratory or experimental in the name of preserving greatness, or worse, preserving ourselves for greatness; whenever it decides to show up and ring the bell. We will never find what might be worth dragging out of our insides. We see even less of what is out in that great blue/grey something that is Life.
To be a little less ambiguous, I'm talking about the reason I haven't been blogging. Other than the template designer that I just can't get figured out and the fact that I am constantly following around what seems like a heard of wild elephants to make sure they don't trample each other or fall down the stairs or get bitten by a dog. OK, so really the only things my kids keep me from is answering the phone and having any personal private time with my big hunk of a hot latin lover husband. But, the template, that keeps me from actually writing. Oh, and I can't figure out how to post photos. I am slightly technologically defunct, but I will be resurrected, hear ye me. I am not going to give any more excuses to myself for not blogging. I want to. Isn't that enough? But...what if I write something and it isn't really brilliant and what if I make a joke that