A Deep Fear While Navel Gazing

I often worry if family or co-workers will find this blog. And not declare it weird or anathema but instead brand it as boring. Glean no secrets or titillation but instead dismiss it as just another litany. Overexposed? Repetitive? I reflect on my privileged experience and know the traumas I suffered are all but minor. The poetry in storms, the flip of someone's hair, the press of their foot against mine at the booth, the grades I got, and the water rushing by is not poetry but white noise. Mami is not a universal paragon but an old lady from Mayaguez who drinks a lot of wine is unlucky to have a child who takes so much license online. My children are reflections of me and when they see this they will point to their anecdotes and say "Its your fault. The Kitty Cat Game? That is your fault." The bad movies are better covered by people with gear. Who can code HTML. And even without the scenery there is no unique take. Everything anyone can experience has been written down somewhere. And folks won't find it on this blog.

Nothing on here would get me fired. Divorced. Marooned. I can do that all by myself.

Regular programming will resume soon.

Source: Pexels, Burak K