knowing doesn't mean so much

i have weird moments of clarity some days. i realize why i don't post more. and it's a poor reason. but somehow i use it to justify not posting. sorry to my imaginary faithful readers for not posting.

really, i'm not a 'bloggger'

at some point i thought i would love blogging. putting up links to my favorite sites or to things that strike my fancy. and there are plenty of them. i have bookmarks in strange categories and loads of crap that i enjoy reading daily (or at least regularly). you know, i also thought i would be able to air out things to get a better handle on them by putting them in order and re-reading them to gain perspective. but there's the rub. do i really want to rehash things that bother me? things that niggle their way into my brain and fester there like weeping wounds? things that other people shouldn't read or know...

why i really don't blog. it's because my anonymity is not as real as i want to believe. what if someone happens to stumble upon this site and realizes what i say or write has everything to do with them or someone they know? it becomes a silent issue. things left unsaid or possibly said in confidence to someone else shouldn't be told to all. maybe it's irrational of me, and like i said earlier, it's a poor reason to not blog.

just a few things on my mind lately. and no one to tell them to makes me antsy. well, some of them can be discussed, but too many tend to linger in the brain and drive me in circles wondering who to talk to. as usual, i over think and make myself crazy. so i will just sit here and listen to the sisters of mercy and pretend that i'm not sad. (somehow, the music doesn't really make the pretending easy, but whatever)

and anyway. it's past. right? it's future. i can change that. right? i need to move on and forward. concern myself with what i have and what i can gain. and love what i'm doing and where i'm going. it would be easier if i had my mom. not that i don't talk to my dad. i've been a 'daddy's little girl' for so long, but it's different. i miss her so much. most days i don't think about it. and it doesn't bother me. most days i go on without a passing thought to her. there are just things that she had so much insight into and i had so much to gain from listening to her. i miss my mom. i'm not even thirty and i am motherless. i'm almost thirty and i can honestly say that i want my mommy. right now, it's what hurts me the most. right now, it's been three years since i lost her.

i miss her. i miss you. i miss many things. but i will never say. but that's my issue. why start a blog if not to disperse into the ether the things that bother me the most...

because i'm afraid of who might be reading and supposing.

who knows. i might delete this like i've deleted the others.

so faithful imaginary readers, back to the normal scheduled program of nothing for months and then some inconclusive narrative on nothing.

i'm tired and i must sleep.

i wish i had said many things. i wish i had the time back. i wish i had the words from so long ago back. i wish many things. but they never come true. i've given up on wishing.

listening: first and last and always - sisters of mercy
feeling: yes