surely, i have things to say.

curiously, nothing wants to be shared.

i seem to be afflicted with a crippling case of introspection, and that’s making this charge of daily blogging a difficult one.  it’s not something new.  in fact, it’s something i’ve been struggling with for the better part of this year.

i’m trying to learn to let go, but to do this, i’m finding that i need to understand why i hold on.  and there’s more — i need to know exactly what it is i’m holding.  it’s dark and arduous work.  it’s putting me face to face with a lifetime of stockpiled fragments — fears, betrayals, hopes, failures — they’re all there, tucked neatly into drawers, and hidden behind pictures when no one was looking.

i had no idea.

so let’s just say that the words that come this month may not be on par with the past two decembers.  and that’s okay.  the wheels are still turning, but in different ways.  new ways.  necessary ways.

it’s like stepping out of the dark and into the sunlight.  first, you have to close your eyes to see.

the only people for me are the

mad ones

mad to live

mad to talk

mad to be saved

the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing

but burn, burn, burn

like fabulous yellow roman candles

exploding like spiders across the stars

(j. kerouac)

there were a few noteworthy yellow roman candles woven into the fabric of my year.  i pause today to remember each of them — my confidants, my co-conspirators, my companions.  the next few posts are my tributes to them, a small expression of my gratitude for the countless ways they have enriched my days.

a comfort not forgotten.