Hello World. Again. in Musings, rambling, circle jerks and other stories.

For 10 years I kept a public diary. Not a blog. A blog I always felt was more thematic, more structured, more targeted. A diary was largely based on my life. And a diary got me so far. It allowed me to express and communicate. It connected me with different people, some I would go as far as calling friends. It brought me to the basis of the most open and honest relationship I could have ever hoped for. For 10 years I was interested enough in my own story.

And then I wasn’t.

My own story became a tired plot of “got up, went to work, came home, ate, went to sleep.” Repeat.

Now, I have started a creative writing course. Now perhaps I can divorce from the diary and commit to the blog. Or start an open relationship with both. Or have an all out orgy of facts and fiction and polished truth and thinly veiled allusions.

Not that my story has changed. But maybe now I can dive into the other stories. The voices in my head that have their own dialogues. The dreams. The puntasticly unfunny thoughts.

For the first time in a while I have laid in bed with the cogs in my head in motion. With an itch to write. With the words casting on like loops of wool creating what is probably the worlds worst freestyle jumper. I want to use all the words. I want to ramble on. I want to unapologetically spew forth a one man show mostly for my own amusement.

I want to wave my arms frantically and shout “I exist!”

I’m back. I’m clogging your screen. I’m defacing your internets.