Secrets not exposed -- random blathering alert!

I have a staple of blogs that I read daily. They often give me inspiration or fill a social void in my life. As I sat here at my own domain, I was strapped for something to write about. I censor myself greatly as I know many of my regular readers. This blog is inching toward 5000 hits. I realize that isn't 5000 individuals, but someone out in the blogosphere is taking in some of the words that I put to pc. With that being said, I am fully aware that family members, friends and co-workers read my meandering thoughts ... even if it's a quick perusal at most. Hence, self censoring. Do I really want my brothers and sisters to receive full disclosure? Not yet. I'm only 42. HA! I guess they'd get over it since it is just the past. And it was part of my late bloomer rebellious phase.

I'm reminded that confessing my sins of the past is quite cathartic and, at times, hilarious. When tales are retold they seem to take on a lighter tone. This sort of thing happeend last night as I spent a great bit of time flappin' my jaw via the telephone. I don't often get an opportunity to talk on the phone. In this make it quick world texting is the way to go. Texting or instant messaging. As laughter ensues during the call, I am reminded how much I miss that human element of a conversation. Hearing the person's own chuckle and inflection can't be interpreted by "LOL" or an emoticon. It is through hearing his voice that I find great pleasure. Mind you this isn't a perverse sense of pleasure. I take in my own giggle and wonder if he thinks I make a sound not unlike a turkey in the wild.

There are things I openly and gladly share with this person that I'd never write here. I open up without consideration to the dreaded censor button. I feel that I can give a humorous spin to my past behaviors. Humor in a lifestyle that I once chose to lead. Albeit decadent, it's pertinent to the shape my present has taken. In comparison to many people out there I still appeared relatively prudish. I say relatively because many people with whom I associated had lifestyles that would make Charlie Sheen blush (well maybe not, but you get the point). I respected them by not passing judgement. I respected myself by maintaining my own comfort level.

Perhaps one day I'll start another blog that is solely dedicated to this once nice-girl-gone-temporarily-wild portion of my life. I'll give it a fictional edge so readers will have no idea where fact ends and fantasy begins.