Good morning friends. I’ve been away a while and I may not owe an explanation, but it is forthcoming nonetheless. I’ve began getting rid of things toward the end of last year. I took things to Goodwill. I stopped my TV, land line phone, and internet. And I had to stop paying for my website. Sad that. But I now have this free one on which to natter. And it looks almost as nice.
I’m going to use this site as a place to post my blog, and as a place to post my suite101 articles. I’m hoping that by doing so I can try to contain a lot of my thoughts in one location. Perhaps I’ll even get my brain organized. The blog posts will be listed in “Chapitre” form, as always, and the articles will be listed by their published titles.
So the question today is what’s on my mind, and I have to admit that there is nothing on my mind. Nothing at all. I’m doing lots of things: painting the living room (again), writing new articles, having catch up lunch with professors, organizing stacks of neglected papers, and hanging clothes in color coordinated sections in my new closet. But am I thinking about anything? No. I’m not. I’m doing. Because I’m empty. I’m moving at top speed, getting lots of things done but I’m thinking and feeling naught but that still fresh pain in my hand.
Pain has become a friend of sorts in my life. Getting reprimanded, getting scratched or hair pulled, being taunted, being shamed, being humiliated. This was my childhood. And now I welcome pain the way one might greet a familiar friend. It even offers a bit of amusement. And the only real sting I feel is when I cause someone I love any milligram of ache. Is this straight up masochism? Probably. Is it deviant? Hmmm…
Perhaps Emily Dickinson and I have more in common than I had previously imagined.