Funny how absentitia changes one's perspective. I'm not even sure 'absentitia' is a word, that's how long it's been since I've written. My fingers feel like pyrite laden with graphite. Yeah, you read that right.
Gone is all the fucking anger and hostility. No, really. Really... seriously.
In place of all the snarkiness and sarcasm that has plagued my mind and writing is a new-found love of acceptance and patience that only the Dali Lama and Charlie Sheen can appreciate.
My daughter turned twenty-one years old this week. A milestone for any parent. Yet, I had no way of contacting her to wish her a 'Happy Birthday' or to tell her that I love her or to give her advice as she surely headed off to indulge in the gaiety of the night that all twenty-on-year-old birthday children experience. I'm yet again a smudge on the family name that no 'Wite Out' can cover.
That's ok, though. I'm okay with that. She is in a good place, surrounded by people who care for her and love her and accept her despite her faults and past indiscretions. After all, isn't that all that we need? A place to feel accepted despite who we are and what we have done? Thank god for her new in-laws.
So here I am. Some may view me as an outcast, or a separatist, or as simply detatched. That's not a problem. I may likewise view them in the same light. Com si com sa. I'm in a good place. I have a dog who loves me, a woman who accepts me and a mind that continues to grow despite my best efforts.
I'm back. I'm strong. I'm willing and my fingers are itching to peck. By god, I have nine good peckers and one bent pecker that is the leader on the keyboard.
It's been awhile ... i'm ready to unplug the thoughts like a toilet stopped up by a dixie cup after a beer pong contest ...
Bring 'em on!
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