“I cut myself shaving today”, I wrote as I wondered who really would care to read about it. What makes a person sit down and write about themselves? There is a bit of arrogance in writing this and placing it online for people to read. Personally, my writing here is a bit of a challenge for me. I have been writing in a journal for years strictly for Dean’s eyes only and honestly I would suggest it for everyone. There is a certain freedom when you realize there is no one to bullshit, no one to lie to except yourself, and freedom to write anything you want.

As I said, writing for an audience (as small as mine might be) is quite different. Especially when everyone reading this probably knows me in some fashion and in different ways. I find that I stay away from certain subjects and personal issues that I save for my unpublished personal journal. Even on some of the subjects I do write about, I tend to censor myself and I definitely pay more attention to readability and sentence structure. I don’t like that I do this, but I often find it in the best interests of everyone.

I cut myself shaving today. The shower has always been my sanctuary. Alone and naked with the white noise of the water bouncing off me as it creates a place of great serenity. This is a place I can focus and think. Sometimes about nothing and sometimes too much. I often lose track of time, zone out, and get lost in thought. Today, my thoughts drifted to artists. I focused then on whether I still consider myself an artist. Then I decided that it comes down to the act of creation and my lack of it recently. I don’t believe a graphic designer alone can truly be called an artist. So, again as a barrage of water washes away the dirt, the soap, and the world, my thoughts drift to the act of writing. And what compels me to sit in front of a computer and write. As I contemplated this, I lose focus and I cut myself.

As I bled, transfixed at the crimson water swirling down the drain, my mind slipped away. I realized that writing is just another creative outlet, a way for me to breathe life into nothing. There is a certain satisfaction in creating, no matter what it may be. Writing also helps me focus my thoughts and ideas while also giving me a place to look back and defend decisions I might later question. Also, my memories have always had a way of slipping from my mind faster than most. It’s a very isolating feeling when a majority of your past is lost and a little bit more slips away each day. One way I’ve found to hang on to my past has been to write about it.

As I exited the sanctity of my shower, I thought I should write about what I was thinking. Then I was sidetracked. Ironically enough it was a memory from the past that ended up following me most of the day. Then, I finally got in front of the computer to write. I told myself I should write about this memory and put it to rest. Instead, you got this.

”Strange, the view from here
Words we spoke, forgotten at the time
Now replay in my mind
What went wrong, what was right”


”Forget regret or life is yours to miss.”



Current mood: displaced
Currently listening: Rent by Cast Recording


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