::Five Minutes

I have five minutes. Here we go:

My e-mail was broken most of last week because I did something stupid with my DNS. If you sent an e-mail that bounced back, send it again. Things are fixed.

The weather is getting cold and I’m already grumbling about another winter working out-of-doors. I’ll get over it once my internal heater kicks into high gear. Time to get out all the arcticwear, though. I will not end up in the hospital again.

I’m still pulling my hair out over not having spare time. But I’m getting it done in school. Aced my first round of exams (although one of them, just barely). I set the bar too damn high with that 3.9 my first year.

Have I written here about… my business? I am now the proud part-owner of a real, genuine registered business. That’s the other third of what’s been taking all my time (work, school, entrepreneurship… huzzah). I think I’m gonna be rich. At least assuming the Internet doesn’t go away.

I realized the other day that I censor myself here. A lot. I don’t really know why that is. Over the years, many people that know me in real life have peeked their noses in here. But only two or three are still around, and I don’t have terribly much to hide from them at this point.

But I’ve noticed that I don’t often write about what’s really going on inside my head. Or about sex. Or my sordid hobbies (RPGing, fencing, whathaveyou). About those intimate things, et-fracking-cetera. When I wrote every day — once upon a time — I *used* all those intimate things that lived in the back of my soul and made me unhappy. It let me shout out some really great prose, at a fairly constant rate. Now that the suicidal passions are long burned out, is the fuel gone? I’d like to think not.

I’ve been giving some thought to starting over somewhere with a new name, in a new community. But I don’t think that would necessarily change things in and of itself (though it might facilitate change). Either that, or I need to bite down hard and scratch out some writing — even if I have to answer surveys and swallow stupid Internet memes.

In the end I guess I’d like to be more honest with myself when I write. And more passionate. I miss that about myself.

Five minutes are up.