I've been a bad blogger. I've hidden away all my keenest thoughts and dreams and terrors that leave when unwelcome. I've done what I've always done in times of mental crisis...I've crawled into my journal. For safety mainly...a spot in the middle of a vast forest on a rock so smooth it delights. There is another reason too...good ole fear and guilt. How dare I feel sorry for myself, whinge about pain, moan about loneliness when all you have do is open your eyes and ears wide and you are flooded with the silence of hunger and disease.
My students made fun of me once when I was teaching a Critical Thinking class...we were unraveling the tactics of fallacy-makers. I brought up Sally Field and how when I was a child, I was so heartbroken I sent my allowance. Of course I'm a sap. I was raised by some of the most sentimental, sincere & lovely people on the planet. And I mean EVERYBODY who raised me...teachers, guidance counselors, ministers, youth pastors, mean girls, trouble-makers, babysitters, aunts and uncles, cousins and kin. Every person--no matter how fleeting leaves an imprint if you pay attention long enough to discover it.
Now, admitting to being a class-D blogger, does not mean I've neglected Facebook. Now that is some kind of world in there. And these days...two weeks past major surgery and (STILL WITH A FEVER!!! GO AWAY AND QUIT MESSIN' W/MY BODY TEMPERATURE!!!) hobblin' around, needed every DAMN thing and o my lord the LIMITATIONS. I don't deal well with limitations...never have.
But what FB does is allow me to move outside my mind and look around at all of our humanity.
This is the end of Rant One. Rant Two will follow as alone time presents itself...be good minions.
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