Protected: A Haiku for Family

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goodbye blogging.

i really want to blog.  i want to talk about my amazing students.  i want to talk about what i saw fox news.  i want to talk about north american christians and their church.  i want to talk about social justice whores and fakes.  i want to talk about my mom’s engagement.

but every time i sit down to type out my thoughts, i feel bad.  i feel like a voyeuristic story-collector, a haughty liberal socialist, a self-loathing elitist, a quencher of good intentions, and a bad son, respectively.  but not just a few years ago, i would have had no problem dropping the knowledge and shitting all over other people’s poor choices for the masses to read about (on xanga, of course).   what’s happened to me?  has my age slowed my quick tongue?  has life beaten me into intellectual apathy?  has my edge been so dulled?  . . . of course not.  i still love kicking ass and making bitches shake hands . . . fuck shit.

i am happy to say, i’ve lived a great adult life.  i have seen and done a lot more than i thought i would these last couple of years.  i lived and experienced things i had only read about previously.  meaning and purpose is abundant, and i feel alive in reality.  so now when i try to blog, it feels like i’m just rewriting stories that i don’t have to be written down.  i feel like i cheapen the experience by recreating it for an audience.  and i know that i, too, am a part of my own audience when i blog; fortifying my pre-existing, narrow-minded, “progressive” beliefs with well-composed diatribe and self-assuring prose.  for me, blogging is bad for my health.

so goodbye blogging.  i’m sure i’ll visit every now and then if i have some amazing revelation of the human condition, or if i have something supremely amusing and stupid to share.  but for now, i’m quite content keeping my stories my own.

goodbye my wordpress . . .
a lonely journal awaits.
five more syllables.