I never intended this blog to be a confessional. In fact I was desperate to keep it from being one. This was supposed to be a place to jot down my observations, to do more writing, and to occasionally indulge in some bon mots. But the road to hell is famously lined with good intentions, and I find myself writing more about myself – my boring, boring self. While this is solipsistic at best, I find that I can’t help it. The things filling my head are increasingly more introspective, and more crowded. They need to be let out, like insane children from a Victorian novel, free at least though somewhat likely to cause havoc. So much havoc.
I have paradoxically been a very private person, despite this blog. I have compartmentalized my life (for a variety of reasons, as you can see from the previous post) ,
I find my hands are unaccustomed to writing them down in my paper journals, and so I write here. It doesn’t feel as satisfying and I suppose that’s down to my own old-fashioned tendencies, and my pretension; and to my own laziness. Resigned to my fate, and uncharacteristically willing to “go with the flow”, I am pressing ahead. So … you’ve been warned. From here on, it may get messy. Be patient with me, because I’ve been patient with you all.
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