Since I could write, I kept a diary. It’s one of the ways I deal with what life throws me. With the advent of the internet, I stopped keeping a paper diary and just started publishing my life instead.

I love putting everything out there for anybody to know. I don’t have anything to hide. Sometimes I do dumb stuff, like everyone does, but for the most part I spend my time trying to find the right balance of work and fun. If you ask me, that’s blogworthy.

Then came the day that everyone had a computer. I couldn’t discuss my frank thoughts about other people or tell funny stories at their expense. They were all there reading it. Things I posted publicly ended up being…. public. I drew some lines and stopped posting things that were private, but worse than that, I seem to have stopped writing to work out those things I need to be working out.

My tumblelog’s an awesome outlet for my current random thoughts, but lately I’m feeling like there’s a fair amount of stuff I’d love to get into detail about if only it wouldn’t breech other people’s privacy or have the potential to offend them if they landed on my page and read it.

Recently I’ve felt a real desire to write that I can’t seem to shake, but don’t want to publish. After a decade of publishing my diary, it seems like a strange idea to write only for myself.