The hills we die on

Hello again, 

Often I enjoy writing in the style of Kathleen Kelly (You've Got Mail) where she starts as if the reader is in the middle of a conversation with her. The Internet has been such a wonderful place to have these kinds of distant yet intimate interactions. For instance, you are here, reading my blog and going about your business outside of this... But also we are sitting across a table from each other and talking. This is a conversation and sometimes you respond. I appreciate it immensely. But not to sound self-centred, this is also a conversation about me. 

And I remain adamant that this is the kind of conversation I want to keep having. That I need to carry on speaking to you this way because it would be a betrayal not to. There is

art and beauty in these imaginary cups of coffee and the ugly emotions that need to be discussed too. There is a place for pretty prose, the kind laced with poetry and embellished with nostalgia. There is a place for the anger and the joy. But there needs to be a place for both, or none at all. 

This is the hill I am choosing to die on. For the precious friendships I have fostered through this keyboard. Because a thread on twitter won't be enough or appropriate to express what I need to. Because there is a need that gnaws at me at night if I don't have some of these conversations.  The point is that this is what I ordain it to be. For my sanity, I must have these conversations with you.

  

For something more distant and cold, there are probably instruction manuals that would make thrilling reading. For something more structured, there are textbooks with numbered chapters and learning outcomes.  There will always be something to suit your particular need (this is the internet after all), but right now this is what I need. 

If you want to have a chat or go on a ramble through someone else's mind- there is this.  For the last seven years, it has been this mix of musing about death, marvelling at life and reflection on the journeys I am on, even when I don't know I am on a journey yet.  

Tar and feather me if I turn against this need to stay true. Because all I have is this voice. That's all we ever have. Something to say and something to stand for. When something is unpleasant to the ear, we turn the radio off or listen to something else. This is all that will play here- a loud conversation about a spectrum of emotions and occasionally a whisper of my innermost fears. You choose to listen in the same way I have chosen to let you into this messy world of mine. 

So...Would you like milk or sugar with that cup of coffee before I carry on?