Hot Tub Day/Respect Your Cat Day
2006-03-28 @ 11:05 a.m.

Reading what I wrote yesterday, I'm tempted to censor myself when I get around to typing everything out this weekend. I do that a lot these days, since the bulk of my entries are either written or typed retrospectively. To write is to be conscious of an audience. Even without evidence of readership, the instinct to project an attrative (or at least not repulsive) persona is hard to escape, even if the facets of the persona may or may not have their basis in truth. I've elected to blank out sizeable parts of the previous entry, even if they do represent rare moments of unguarded vulnerability in an otherwise sterilely quotidian blog. (Looking back now nearly a week later, I think I wanted to be upset when I was writing that entry, if you catch my drift. So the authenticity of it all is questionable.) In any case, I'm fine now, really. It's just that I miss having people around whom I can talk with openly and honestly, without needing to pause to consider how I'll be judged by them. I know I'm always complaining about how my acerbic tongue drives people away who might want to talk, and maybe I want to drive them away because I'm afraid they'll understand me. For to understand someone is to have the power to hurt him. There must be a grain of truth in that, despite it being formulated in classic cliché-speak. It's just that for the first time in my life, I've got no idea where I'm headed, at least not a firm one anyway. That scares the hell out of me. April may bring better days, even if T.S. Eliot did call it the cruellest month.