I liked my old blog. It was fun and light and thoughtful, I had a pile of great friends, and I couldn’t wait to write a new post whenever an idea came to me.

It got me into some trouble though. My boss became a regular reader, and that, my friends, was not good. My soon-to-become-ex-wife was also a regular reader, as well as many of her friends. There was no place to express my thoughts without lots of self-editing, simply because I didn’t want to deal with all the bullshiat, questions, assumptions, gossip, and judgments that came of some of my writings.

I tried a secret blog, where I wrote what I was thinking. Some of it was good, but it became too much like therapy – which takes work. Eventually, too many readers were on that site as well and I quit writing there. Eventually I registered another ‘regular’ blog with a new identity, but I don’t post there very often. Being away from the computer all day contributes, but it’s more than that. Something about the community feel of it is missing.

The big move from everything I’d known for my whole life to a new state, new climate, new business, and one amazing woman certainly shook things up. Some days it feels like I’m a tiny pedestrian in a tiny village at the bottom of a snow globe, which has become the favorite toy of a hyperactive booger-dripping toddler. Other days it feels like I’m a pioneer, blazing a new trail for myself. I left behind all my family, friends, coworkers, musicians, and church people to start over from scratch. I never run into old acquaintances, schoolmates, or Michigan State fans around here.

All in all it’s a vast improvement in my circumstances. Sure, there’s lots to miss – but there’s lots to cherish. Balance is the thing – and I’m not very adept at it. I’m swinging to and fro like a drunken bicyclist on a balance beam. You know there’s bound to be a wreck complete with crunching sounds, but you can’t look away.

I do miss the joy of my old blog. But I’m not going to resurrect it, nosireebob. I read Pet Semetary, and know dead things ought to stay dead. This is new, like a newborn kitten or a freshly minted turd that’s still making waves in the bowl.

Perhaps this will help me get my voice back.

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