Opening Up 2015

.:You Might Have Noticed...:.

Unlike years past, I have no Project 52 lined up this year. I'm not entirely sure what I will be doing with my blog over 2015, but making a promise to post on a regular basis is not one of those things.

There's so much to unpack, and so much to think about. Writing for the 8List has been one of the best things I've been doing the past couple of years, but it does drain me creatively of writing about nearly anything else. That explains the blog, really.

But overall, it's a time for rethinking a lot of things. I've always wanted to write for Cracked, so I'm starting to look into making that happen, even just once. I've always wanted to travel more, so I need to start upping my income by being more consistent with my writing so I could afford to do that. I've always wanted to take a more active stance with the things I believe in, so when there's a chance to get out there and fight for what I believe in, I will be more willing to do so.

I realize there's like only 10 to 20 people regularly reading this blog or something, so I'm sorry to disappoint what little audience I have by writing so infrequently. That being said, it's been very difficult to keep that level of comic timing I do with some of my better blog posts, and finding pictures to caption with stupidity even gets ridiculously challenging at times.

I've been dealing with the Sword of Damocles from when it hung over me sometime last week. It's been eating at me. Ruining my mood for the most part. Threatening to overthrow the semblance of sanity I've managed to establish in my life over the past few years of walking around wounded. I wish I could promise that I won't let it shatter me, but the cracks are beginning to show, and it's taking all it can out of me just so I can keep it together.

It's inconsiderate, really. To put me in limbo while there you are, living the life of adventures and misadventures like Dora The Explorer on poutine. It's unfair, because you have all the time in the world to think about everything else, while all I have is the chance to think about you. And the festering wound that gets gouged with each and every moment that I am left to wait for the hammer to drop. Or not. I don't know, after all.

So you talk about your headspace, and what's going on in there right now is something I supposedly needed to now about. I talk about my headspace, and the clutter you just dumped on me. Way to go. Way to be different. Way to be not another used to be.

I'm not in the mood to be more cryptic than I already am. I'm not in the mood to sugarcoat what I have to say and what I have to feel. Just know that I am tired of this. I've been tired a long time, and you should know by now that my patience for drama runs short nowadays.