The case is not that I haven’t been writing.  I have written not a lot, but not a little, since last I posted to this blog.  I have been, as always, chipping away at my collection of poems.  I have been very slowly performing edits on that old novel you might remember.  I have been doing larger-scale, maybe printier, work.  But the case isn’t even that I don’t have things to say that are more appropriate for this morsel-sized blogging medium than for a book.

I have been struggling with a question around the first few paragraphs of every post I find myself drafting.

The disclaimer that I sometimes I wish I could wear around with me IRL and on the interwebs is that I am not an expert.  In political science, in sociology, in love, in art.  In this, I guess I am not different from many people expressing opinions into the internet.  So why pay attention to them, or me?  I find myself on a thought-train destined for the conclusion that what I have to say is not especially gripping — as vitally important as the subjects I am speaking on may be.

My kind brain and my anxious brain argue about it.  The anxious brain wins.  The post is deleted.  I am not sure who benefits or suffers for this.  It’s just how it is.

But as a part of a series of life-changes, here I am turning this idea on its head.  Because whether it’s 0 or 7,000 of you reading this . . . 100% of you must care at least a little what I have to say, right?  Does this resonate with anyone else?  You’re WordPress people, and you’ve wrestled with inner questions about it, I assume?

Do you have the two brains too?

Expect things.