I bow to my treasured circle of friends, who deserve trophies for listening to my fears, hopes, and quandaries over the years. However, I tend to get antsy when there's no one to tell. Also, I admit that at times I may resist in trusting my intuition, or staying emotionally grounded without external input. Yet, I feel that being aware of my downside will hopefully strengthen the up.
So, I am back to share with my half a handful of friends who, maybe not fully enjoy, but at least get my warped sense of humor. I have once again decide to initiate my emotional exchanges rather than to respond only when needed, because I truly believe that expressing my feelings is a form of generosity, just as being dependable is.
Another reason for my return is that I enjoy giving, and quite frankly, I'm concerned that my brother and his brother might run out of ways to belittle me and ridicule my inadequate writing abilities.
With that said, I was planning on sharing the experience of my solo jaunt the the wonderful island of Jamaica, along with a picture of me on the beach in my bikini getting sandwiched between two Rastafarian's. That was until the accident. Now I have something way more gnarly to show off. I'm not one to complain, but since my recent trauma, unbuttoning my pants has become unbearable, and my texting technique has greatly diminished. Yet the look of horror on the faces of those that I show my thumb to makes it almost worth the pain.
