Hello Blog

It's been a while. Yep.

For those of you waiting for something more, you'll be waiting a while yet. I'm actually composing this in Blogger's unreliable editor, if that tells you anything about my commitment to these words.

There is nothing inside me that I want to transcribe here. Furthermore, I'm not sure that what's inside me is transcribable. Evenfurthermore, each time an untranscribable issue emerges that I'm not comfortable *sharing, I tend to create an anonymous journal for that issue...and then it magically disappears (the issue, not the journal, though I wish they would).

So it appears that by concretising my tempestuous insides by way of transcription, I can make issues disappear. Good to know for the long term, but there are things I'm not ready to let go of yet. I'm terrible at living without something resistant to push against, and hence I must reserve a little, purely for **pedantic purposes.

Now that you're wishing you could go back in time and unread these cryptic and senseless-to-all-but-me sentences, I'll leave you with one final thought:

I'm starting to fear old age. I've never given it much thought, because I've always been young, but in the last twelve months, the fact that I'm aging has finally dawned on me, and it's terrifying. I've always known that I'd make a terrible old person, and I'm not someone who is going to celebrate ***laugh lines and grey hairs, because all of these things signal the end of what little I feel I have that's worth celebrating. I'm not saying I dislike the aged as a whole, but in the same way I feel I wouldn't suit blonde hair, I don't think that I will suit old age. But I will wear it like a moth-eaten suit and that will be that.

Anyway, so if you think I'm behaving strangely, it's just me working out a way to own the old. I guess? Fuck, I'm starting to wish I hadn't bothered with this entry either.

Okay, ending on a positive:

I'm very much in love with my job, my town, England and all their ensuing complexities. It makes the hard stuff a lot easier to cope with.

*of course I mean ' sharing with my mother,' who I strongly suspect reads here now. Hi mom! Nothing personal. It's just, you know. Well...hi!

**untrue

***well, grimace