To write is a presumptions thing. These written words declare that what I think matters enough to justify the time you generous people take to read my words. I shame myself with my own audacity and narcissistic insistence “my voice matters.” The pressure to be relevant, to be unique, to connect, to make sense, to not be crazy. That is a lot of pressure. Sometimes I fail. Sometimes the absurdity of making that declaration overwhelms my impulse to write, or edit for public consumption, or expose my thoughts. Thank you for your patience. Luckily, I am a presumptions person. With enough time my doubt is always overwhelmed by this compulsion to tell my story.
Also, I’ve been really busy. Falling in love.