I never used this one much...

Walk softly.  Tread lightly.  The footsteps you leave in the earth today are no longer in sand, but immortalized in stone.

Or...pixels.

I erased the babbles I posted here before, but this time I think I want to stick around.  I want to try.  I want something to mark the passage of time with more weight than Facebook.  Something less ephemeral than Twitter.

I'm opening a the first page of a new book.  It's time.

See, I used to write thoughtful things.  I used to set my heart out there for others to see in more than just bits and glimpses.  I did!

Of course, I also didn't have a full time job that involved sitting at the computer and unclogging the various toilets of the internet.  I step away mentally exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned at the end of every day, wondering what home there could possibly be in humanity.  My sister said it's because I internalize it all and take everything too personally, as if having compassion is some sort of mental disorder that needs to be cured.

It doesn't matter.  It shouldn't matter.  Her words and her opinions, I mean.  I am who I am, with or without the approval of my family.  It isn't exactly a warm and fuzzy feeling that she so thoroughly disapproves of everything that I am, but she's not the one walking this road.  I am.  I've made my choices, I've battled my demons, I've walked in these shoes, and I am the only one who can forge this future.

And oh, the demons my family have never known that I have faced....

Increasingly though, I want to write about thoughts that are formed while I am working.  While I am doing my job I do not have a voice.  I have the opposite of a voice.  I have guidelines, a brand to protect, a delete button, and a banhammer.  Nowhere in there do I have a chance to say, "Hey, guys, cool it.  Chill.  This is why that is inappropriate.  This is why your comment was removed.  Nothing personal, just a paycheck."

So, I have this time to think while I'm ignoring the paranoid delusions these people form about what sort of conspiracy they think I am a puppet of...or the puppet master of.  Sometimes they're deep thoughts.  Sometimes they're silly thoughts.  Sometimes they're just plain disgusted thoughts.  Still, I am not the sort who can just stop thinking.  Whenever I meditate I stop listening to the thoughts I'm thinking, but I'm still very aware that they're there.  So...maybe I'm doing it wrong.  Oh well.  Not to stressed about that one.

Anyway, I have ideas, and I want to share them with...someone.  Get in the habit of writing every day again.  Make something more than a Facebook blurb every few hours become a priority.  Maybe my thoughts aren't worth sharing, but it's a great big internet.  I'll just sit here with my itty-bitty candle and bask in my own glow, and if you stumble on this place then you can bask for a bit as well.