Just read the entries of another blog and realized how great it was to be kid. I miss the novelty of life and the newness of everything. The yearning for that which is unknown, and the amazement when you do/find/see/experience it.
One thing my writing has lacked for very many years is openness. I screen, I hide, I feign, and I never open up. Very interesting thinking how much my ability to write what I really mean has actually altered since the novelty and newness has gone... And why. That's the real question isn't it.
Too deep for Weds evening. I'm going home for a gin and tonic. Ahh being an adult ain't so bad. heh heh.
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