July and August have sort of sucked. There’s no sugar coating any of it. I’ve tried to stay active in some ways, and I’ve totally receded from others. All of it has been in an attempt to cultivate a presence that’s sustainable and useful here on internet-land, but it’s been hard.
I miss blogging, but I’ve learned that, since my blog has zero anonymity, there’s too much risk in most honesty here. That’s a bummer, but it’s not new. I don’t know if I’ve ever been my authentic self–I don’t even know who that is, probably, but more than that, the person I show to the world has always been dictated by what others will allow. Never be too mad. Never be too sad. Never make anyone else uncomfortable or guilty or feel like they have to examine anything about how they interact with the world: the problem and the solution are mine alone.
There are a lot of facets of my personality that I’d like to explore, but they’re stuck in a jar that’s got a too tight lid. I’m not strong enough to pry it off, or maybe I am, but I’ll never know when I’ve got an arm tied behind my back.
Anyway, I hate this post, but it feels like it has to happen to transition from almost two months of silence into promotion for my next book which is, like, my beacon of hope. I know there’s no explanation here, and that’s largely why I hate it, but, like, beyond telling you, Dear Reader, that my cat is really sick, there’s a million things that I just can’t share. What really sucks is that getting all those feelings out in a blog used to be how I dealt with them, but…well, whatever, point is, sunshiney posts ahead.
A.K. Caggiano 