Who knows if anyone reads this thing anymore. Hopefully. Or hopefully not. I don’t know. Blogs are weird. At least for me, what I write is what I would tell people if they cared to listen. Not that I think they should care, cause to be honest, it’s not really that interesting to hear all the details of someone’s life, unless you’re me.
I mean that I like to hear about all the details of your day, not that it’s interesting to listen to me.
Well, I had another blog but it seems that I have indefinitely lost access to it, and I’m not really okay with that because – well, I don’t know why – I’ve been writing things down online for nearly ten years now, and I have a bad memory, and also the way I lost it is really silly and makes me feel stupid, so…I hope that someday I’ll be able to get it back. Meanwhile, I’m moving back here because when I don’t have somewhere to write, I panic, and when I do have somewhere to write I never post. Just to let you know.
I’ve made the previous posts on here private because…I don’t know. I felt like it. No wait. I’m working on my internet honesty: I made them private because they embarrass me. I was so hopeful for a time, then so hopeless, and in retrospect I was wrong in both situations. And it’s embarrassing to be wrong, especially because to this minute, I still identify with myself at both of those times, and I don’t want to put myself at risk of being wrong again…It’s also embarrassing that the past three times I’ve tried to spell some variation of “embarrass” I’ve spelled it wrong. Clearly, I have issues with being “wrong,” which is ridiculous, because I don’t believe anyone can ever truly be “right.” Except about spelling, I guess.
I’m in Illinois, and I miss home.
I’ve discovered that wherever I am, home is always the house 1000 miles away. I sound like a misfortune cookie.