Every blog post I’ve written in the last Four years has been benign. Listless. Five minutes after I write them, they feel insignificant. The content is of meaning to me yet even I read them like a slideshow of other people’s grandchildren I’ve been forced to watch during an obligatory visit. I bore myself.
I’ve reflected on this. Over and over.
All my communication seems blatantly truthful. And it is. Blatantly truthful. Honest. Dull.
I have a fascination with this wholly sedate side of my life’s truth. It is necessary. Necessary for stability. Necessary to mask my unrest. Maybe necessary to tame it.
I don’t like it. I need a new form for my honesty. I need change.
