In order to push boundaries with myself (some boundaries are meant to be crossed) I decided to post some poems and (or) prose. It hasn’t been easy. My inner critic is louder than yours so don’t even bother – and I know some of you have a keen ear and ruthless eye when it comes to this form of expression.

Well guess what? I don’t care.

I’ve cared about opinions of me for so long it is disturbing.

Now, at this very moment, I want to take down the things I’ve posted because they are deeply personal and I feel a twinge of uncertainty, yet I am sticking to my guns. I’ve unchained the beast within and the only thing you can do about it is not read my blog.

I’ve taken a risk putting myself out here, and believe me, I have a host of critics always ready to tell me who I am and what I’ve done wrong, be it socially or grammatically.

I’m not hurting anyone so if you feel pain by reading what I’ve written then I’m doing something right. If you feel anything while you read what I’ve written then I’m doing something right. Even if you are embarrassed for me, basically you are embarrassed at your own feelings. Not mine. That’s good.

If it makes you feel any better, when I get back from this lengthy stay in the middle of nowhere, I will go looking for Supermarket Man’s ghost and try to get back to “normal”. I miss that hot Irish zombie.

(And as a matter of fact, no, I don’t know why I put up a picture of The Replacements – Paul Westerberg came into my head while I was writing and it seemed appropriate.)

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