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Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.” — Allen Ginsberg

My mom had learned I blog in the train. “I told her to pray in the train instead!” hysterically telling my Dad, who told her about it. I remember I was in high school I overheard her talking to my older sister and telling her that once I come back home from school, “…. She goes straight to her room and write on her diary. What does she write in there?” she would ask.

What do I write in there? BOYS! I write my secrets, other people’s secrets that were told in confidence (I have to tell someone!), events (sometimes mundane – I’d like to look back on them and say I had my life easy, compared to adult life – didn’t need to write that down to know, huh? – guess it became a routine). I want to see what I have written when I was at this age and that age and know what do kids really care about and what do they see growing up. That way, it may aid me in becoming a better parent/person, I hope. Isn’t this the point of evolution? I read somewhere that one needs to write anything to clear the mind then that’s when the “real” writing comes out. Now, I don’t know if this is me just writing or is this the real stuff?

I used to write conversations I had with my friends (still do – when I get the chance or more importantly, when I remember it). That’s what drives my parents mad. After spending hours and hours on the phone talking to friends, I’d write my feelings and what he-said and what she-said, a transcript of what we just talked about. Had to write them right away while still fresh in my mind. Or write letters (novels as what my friends used to call them). Or record songs played on the radio in cassette tapes so I can play them over and over while I write them in my lyrics book. These take hours. I could be helping my mom either prepare dinner or cut onions and garlic, mix the stew or something. But no, I was away in my own world – writing. And though it drove them both nuts, now that you read my blog, I’d like you both to know that I thank you for letting me do and say insane things (though I know among the three, I am the most sane, noh?)

I blog now. I keep up with the times. I don’t want a posthumous award. I don’t want any award at all. I just want to find my voice that I may have seem to have lost along the way. It’s only one facet of my life I’m sharing for the world to see, anyway. Some things are best kept private, though I got nothing to hide. It is a very complicated world. I now feel that I may have been quite sheltered. I hope I am resilient enough to take on life’s knockouts, get blown down by the ever-changing, growing strong winds. I want to come back up again and write all about it.

You both have health issues to deal with and yet your worrying (for us) never fail. I have yet to cross this bridge. My darlings are still small and I have a whole lot of things to learn about life and parenting.

That’s why I blog. To keep me grounded. Keep my rooted. Keep me feeling like I was eight again – just like the time I felt the first time writing. To keep me howling like a mad wolf. No more hiding.

For when I see the moon here, I can sleep in the comfort of knowing it’s another day for you there.

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