Here We Go Again

I did this before, about twenty years ago. At the time, it was very easy to access all of my thoughts and write them down. I didn’t even have to think about it. In fact, I don’t even remember it being something that I made a point of doing. It wasn’t something I needed to make time for or make myself do. I just did it, and I did it often.

When I used to blog, there were a few people who, for whatever reason, seemed to take the time to read my posts on a regular basis, and would even leave comments. That was really nice of them. Although, if it ever came up in conversation, they would usually mention that my blog was really funny. I didn’t mean for it to be funny. That always concerned me.

I blogged then to capture a time in my life that I knew would be transformative. I was going from high school to college, and certainly I was going to blossom from a lone, fat, only-child nerd into a muscular cool college guy who knew what to say to people and happened to like learning as well as making love with his muscles.

Well, I’ve found myself at another precipice (oh by the way none of that other stuff happened the way I expected). This one (back to the “precipice”) is more confusing – I don’t even know what it’s going to be. But I find my thoughts almost entirely inaccessible to the observer-me – a gradually receding thing I’ve noticed over the past couple of years or so. What this means is that I have to really concentrate and focus to develop any concrete notion of what I really think about something. Even then, if I attempt to solidify something I’m thinking and export it to the outside world, it sort of feels like I’m gathering disconnected bits and pieces of thought, and using those to make assumptions about what exactly I, myself, really think about something.

As a matter of fact, even describing the above – it feels like I’m sort of half-making that up in a way.