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"What the hell?", you're probably thinking. Did a lizard run over Filly's keyboard while she was away or has she finally lost her last marble?
Well, actually, the answer to that is a little involved. Since when have any of my blogs been concise? I've been blogging for a while now and occasionally I'll get a nice comment from someone that I'm a decent writer. While I might not necessarily agree, it's still good to know that my creations are appreciated by others even though my intentions aren't necessarily virtuous. Indeed, they are probably downright selfish.
A main thread connecting my blogs is that they tend to describe how I feel about something. Whether it is a moment in time or a more general philosophical outlook, my posts are about my feelings and I haven't, as yet, written anything technical about, for example, how I have managed various technical aspects of my transition such as my voice or look. Posts along those lines have actually been thought of, but not yet acted upon because I find them harder to write. It's not because of the knowledge or the content in the material but merely because any of my decent writings have been a result of a catharsis. When I'm deep in the bowels of anguish, it's comforting to open the floodgates and let my fingers do the talking without my brain getting in the way. Technical writing, however is hardly cathartic and, when my brains get in the way, I have difficulty writing and my English essay grades in school reflected that.
In case you're drifting off due to my rambling, this is where I get to the point. (Don't you hate it when authors herald the arrival of the point instead of just stating the point?) Sometimes, the purging of my thoughts through my fingers doesn't work. Not for lack or desire or effort, sometimes it's as though the waters of thought are muddied and mixed with the rocks of a superabundance of emotion that clog the drainage paths for cleansing. My usual prose is replaced by an internal pressure accompanied by a frustration for the lack of progress, which is then replaced by numbed empathy and imagination as the rocks scour my insides. Those first few lines are usually all I can mange at this point and I guess tonight was one of those occasions.
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