I can't exactly place when I became cowardly with my words online.  

Probably around the same time I started my job as a software engineer.

That crowd is connected.  Cutting edge.  My co-workers were no longer folks who probably wouldn't stumble into something I'd written.

I know.  I know.  That kind of thing is in my head.  It's a form of narcissism to think it matters what I type at 2am into a blank page that I'm going to post on a blog.

I had a job, suddenly, I wanted to protect.  And also, a family I wanted to protect somewhere along the way.  And also, a house and some land I wanted to protect.

I forgot how freeing it is to write what's on my mind into the void that is the internet.  I still sometimes do, but there are so many checks and balances, my writing is infrequent.

I do not want to be cowardly with my writing any longer.  Life continues to be too short.  The world slowly forgets even the most pernicious of people, Ozymandias turns to dust in the desert, and so too are almost all the most prominent names from history.

The world will not remember my cares and worries.

So, this therapy maybe can continue.  My writing brain has not been flexed.  My creative spirit still just pulled out in the context of work and client relationships.  My home life given over to my family, my home, and my slices of silence in between.

The world is going nuts right now.  There's so much insanity and wilful ignorance going on.  Pandemic bouncing back in Ontario these past couple of weeks, and schools still set to open.  It's hard though.  People want things to be normal again, but we're also heading into an election that will likely not go smoothly no matter what side of the coin lands face up.

I want to be wrong on this.

The pandemic is back, and people are less careful than they might have been before.  Still, there are mandatory face mask wearing in stores, so there's that.

Then there's the existential dread that rears it's ugly head from time to time.  Certainly made no better with all the craziness in the world right now.  

So, I think of what I'm thankful for right now. I have water from my tap.  Hot, if I choose it to be.  I have not suffered from hunger during these times, and, I know that globally I am in the minority, likely.  I have a home, bed, family, and as of right now they are safe and happy.

I am thankful for the rain and sun this summer.  We have pumpkins like you wouldn't believe.  They took over last year's compost pile.  And also a large part of our garden.  

I'm going to have a bumper crop of pumpkin seeds, I think.  Which is fantastic.  

I have a job I love, and I can work remotely.  I live in a kind of literal paradise, and much of it is land protected by a conservation authority making certain kinds of developments off the table for the forseeable future.

It feel strange to be 40.  It feels strange, sometimes, to have kids.  A wife.  

I am still my 20 year old self, trying to figure out what it means to be an adult.  It's just that while I was busy trying to figure that out, my body kept aging, and I kept having life experiences.  

But I assure you, I am my 20 year old self inside, hidden behind a fortress of buttressed walls, trying to find my way back out to the courtyard.

On balance, this is what it comes down to.

I am here right now.  I exist.  I am an engine of creation, and hold a world in my mind that exists only there.  I find that fascinating in itself.

Patterns of connections flashing into existence at a thought.  But also it IS the thought.  The thought is the flash of connections all at once and my brain attaches meaning to it.  I mean, come on!  That's fucking fascinating.  To be anything at all.  To think anything at all.  

Done rambling for one night.  It feels good to just vent it all a little bit.