You see, TBH is my home within a home, virtually another world created by my mind as a place to unload my trouble, aches and pains. Blogging has been like that for me, oh, since 2006. At first the feeling of great elation was to start a new project online, a task that I’ve never known would generate more subscribers, spam comments and total page viewss than my posts and pages combined. Funneled much energy, I discoverd WordPress.com and everything is history.
Fast forward five and one-half years and my past hurt feelings of odd memories are coming to a rest. As a result, my blogging sytle will “hitch a ride” on topics written by other bloggers. Stories will be told as best by my own life and those whom I’ve come to love or wish to have taken a train ride to the next town. The negativity will not be a profuse and biting but some residual stains of smokes and illusions will surface as a sort of reminder of how the dark side refuses to be pushed merely aside for the good of moving on with better things in life.
Like the hard wooden pew of our local parish, my metal folding chair serves as a place of comfort away from the bustle of the “outside” world. And curled onto my lap is my own puppy — small, soft, furry, cute and harmless. Yet when provoked, like any frightened animal, the once cuddly creature can bite back and bark, too. So it is with blogging. One moment it’s all nice and sweet. In the next turn, something hideous and heartbreaking comes out with fury. Writers know. But do monsters?
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