the word

                                                       me in front of some ferns.


I'm grabbed by the urge to borrow from a friend, who's very first blog began with ' I'd like to dedicate this to my parents, who are really great people' . I came from that generation, a vague collection of years as yet to be defined by chronology ( basically, I'm probably older than you, but less retarded) who believed that the opportunity to post was the same as turning over a crate, mounting it, and addressing the crowd. That is a pumped up, adrenalized feeling and I'd be lying if I claimed that I didn't feel that way each time I made a Facebook post. For more years than I care to think about. An unheralded poet. Let's leave that for now.

 The point of this blog.
Well, first, let me say that there are two types of people, and they fall under these two categories :

Tony Robbins.

Everyone else.

Tony Robbins is a category, and that category being; everyone who makes a living from selling self improvement, and everyone who believes that the right guru/diet/religion will fill all the holes in their well being. Of course, there are degrees of Tony Robbins, from mildly pleasant, relatively harmless placebo based formula's based in quite sound advice; the idea that if you take care of yourself , that you will feel better., all the way up to Tony Robbins himself, a head banging, high off his own status performer who will take an unconscionable amount of money off you in order to ' change your life'.

I am the voice of reason. And that statement is not the least bit subjective. Think of me as a fellow foot soldier on the front lines of reasonability. You and I, we are in the trenches together, swapping cigarettes and stories, masking up when the mustard gas tumbles into our temporary stronghold with the intention of drowning in us in our own lungs. We may be moving that border inches, or feet, but our efforts in fighting the tide of  bullshit are not for naught.

Another point of this blog;
Apparently, I am interesting. Recent interesting things that I've done was to work in an orphanage in Kathmandu for three months , proceeding a divorce to the man I was married to for 16 years under a small hail of public scorn for the cuckoldry I inflicted on a small souther coastal community, and preceding that, the decision to stop putting alcohol in Kombucha bottles and drinking it before teaching yoga .
     Yes , I taught Yoga. And yes, it is a big deal.

I believe that
 
      I am not that special.
      You are not that special.
   We are all special, each one of us.

My need to read a bit of truth, the whole truth, has eclipsed my fear of obscurity.  I've reached critical mass, and I've decided that the only way to shine a light on it, is to shine a light on myself. To write, to hold myself accountable. Just one little life, examined.