Four things on my mind

I never wanted to censor myself on my blog. And, yet, I've found myself doing just that lately.

This was supposed to be -- and still is -- a place for me and my thoughts. If other people read it, fine. I suppose there's some borderline avoidant behavior going on here, that I'd prefer to lay my cards out on the table now than face criticism from fair-weather friends later. As I've said before, if you read this and you still accept me, well, that's the true measure of friendship.

But lately, I've been sanitizing things. I've been writing for others, not for myself. And now those thoughts that are left out of my posts and tucked away in my skull are bouncing around with increasing frequency. The elephant in the middle of the room.

So here are some random things that I want to get out there. In lieu of several mini-posts, I'm just lumping them all together ...

• My book is going to be back from the printer shortly (a week-ish). I'm excited. I'm scared. I'm nervous. I want the world to celebrate with me, and yet I've told nobody, so nobody's celebrating. I feel like I'm having a child -- I've nursed this thing for (longer than) nine months. Through inception, selection, editing, folios, cover art ... everything. Now it's off to the printer. I deserve cocktails. And yet, it's one more thing to check off my list of things to do before I die. Which means I'm a little bit closer to death.




• My brain worries about Matt. My heart worries about Jeremy. Matt does dangerous stuff, but he's proven to me that he knows what he's doing and that he can talk his way into and/or out of anything. Jeremy is stuck (of his own volition), and I'm watching him retreat to a place where he's becoming increasingly unreachable. If he notices, he doesn't acknowledge it. They both have a special place in my heart, and I'd do anything for either of them. Matt comes back, shows me he's okay, lets me help him. Jeremy hides, afraid to let anyone help him. I grit my teeth and go on.
  
  

  Honestly, it makes me glad that Paul is so ... normal. That he loves me more than anyone I know, trusts me more than anyone I know, doesn't take unnecessary risks, tries to spend as much time at home as possible while getting his doctorate, doesn't hide things from me, and does my laundry. ::grins:: I'm just glad I don't have to worry about him, and that he recognizes my friendships ... and why I worry about my friends.
  

  
  

• There are a half-dozen people I wish I could track down, just to see how they're doing from afar. If I were braver, I'd post names ... but I'll just keep that to myself for now. I wouldn't know what to say to them, so I'd just keep my distance, but I'd like them to know I still have their back like I always did. I'd like to thank a couple of them for the one-on-one talk time, the support they gave me behind the scenes when nobody was looking. And I'd like to tell a couple of them how bad they hurt me, but that I'm not angry anymore. Except maybe I am still a little bit angry. But my love exceeds my anger, always.




• Last night, on my way home, I saw the most horrible wreck I've seen in my life. The car was upside down. The top had been completely sheared off. Nobody could have lived through that -- there simply wasn't room for a person in the wreckage. I cried all the way home. I choked up when I told my parents. Today, as I passed over the site of the wreck, I prayed and gave the sign of the cross. I felt helpless.
  
  

  Reason: When I was about 16, my church youth group put on a drama called "Judgment House." Part of the program included a simulated wreck, so my dad (an insurance adjustor) brought in a burned out car from one of his claims. One night after the program ended, I wandered over to the car. It belonged to a kid my age, 16, who'd been killed in a wreck in the car. Inside, bits of hair and skin stuck to the visor. His broken glasses sat on the passenger seat. And a photo and note from his girlfriend were taped to the dashboard. God, it broke my heart.

  
  

  Now I'm crying again. This is why I can't work in news. It's not just a wreck or a robbery or a war. It's the life of a person. With a family. With a childhood and photos and favorite foods and birthday parties and stories. With memories.

Well, that's that. Now I can go back to worrying about little things, like finding my sleeping pills and calling the dentist about my broken tooth. Peace and love, guys.