laying bare

I wonder sometimes about this place. My blog. Still sounds weird somehow to me that I have a blog. Not that the writing is new, just the public-ness of it (not that new either, I know).

I don't write often enough when I'm happy. I have a friend who's answering machine says: "Hi you've reached ____'s machine. I'm too busy enjoying my life right now to answer the phone...." And while I used to think this was kind of a funny/odd message, I've grown to like it. And I think that's why I don't write as much when I'm happy and things are going well. I don't write much in my non-public journal when I'm doing well either. Happy me has less to say, more to do, I guess.

Mostly I write to work through things, to purge, to vent....once in awhile if something's funny, I'll put that here too. Or if I feel the need to publically declare.... something...sometimes those are actually quite happy posts. I have put things here of great importance to me, some of the ones that mean the most may seem insignificant to the outside world - or maybe they're more perceptive than I think.

The trouble is - since I became aware of the people reading, I sometimes censor things, keep them for the paper pages at home. I'd like to stop doing that, I'd like to feel free to bare my soul here.

It's just that I'm not sure how attractive my soul is naked these days...