Face Tattoos and Elder Folk

I have nothing to say that can lead to any good.  There is a stillness where I stand, and yet everything in my life is moving.  Any attempt I make at a comment could end up looking premature or foolish.  So what am I writing?  I get asked if 'I am writing something new soon' quite often.  It nice to have people follow you, but the dangers of expressing true free thought do tend to catch up to you from time to time.  So what do you do?  Do you edit your true feelings?  What if people who know you professionally, but not personally stumble on your inner thoughts?  I suppose the slight anonymity I have created with a pen name helps, but that is a pretty flimsy shield in the world of Facebook.  I'll have you know that I haven't pulled any punches in these posts.  Some of them are a little too close to home, and that hasn't come without a price at times.

I suppose I don't have anything to hide, but maybe I will one day.  Maybe I do now, but I just don't realize it yet.  I don't want to run away from what I have started here, but it is daunting to release your true life stories, unedited into the void.  Especially, when you have an underused talent as a writer of fiction and a driving whim to create absolutely anything.  When you craft words they can sting, they can emote, they can also exaggerate, and outright lie.  I can't imagine any of that can be good for a person's long term outlook.  So what do you do?  Do you go all Rolling Stones and spill your blood all over the stage cause it's only Rock N Roll, or do you retreat to the "normal" world and stay silent?

I had a long conversation about being "normal" today.  I suppose I am normal (now that stings).  I have sought a life of control, and had a distaste for chaos.  Turns out that was a huge mistake in my life.  The safe road is boring, and now I'm old and stuck (how's that for honesty).  I don't intend on staying that way.  I have been quietly chipping away at the bedrock I have created underneath myself.  I am now about to blossom into a beautiful butterfly (don't ask me how).  Basically, I refuse to undervalue myself ever again.  That may be an innocuous statement, but it is a motto I intend to live by and just today I put it into action.  If it means compromising to move forward then I am going to stay still.  No more accepting the normal or the safe road.  I am going to tattoo my face, stop driving and take a pogo stick to work singing It's My Party and I'll cry If I Want To, all the way to work.  Except in winter so that last bits on hold until June (coward).  But the face tattoo that is going to happen.  Maybe a butterfly....  

I have been thinking that I could post a weekly running story of some kind.  Like the serial fiction newspapers used to publish.  Take Sherlock Holmes as an example, except mine would have no crime solving or excitement, just random fictional characters with huge personality flaws and anxiety.  Sounds delicious I know.  Let me know your thoughts.  If you want to read it - I will write it weekly or more if I can.  Why go through all the trouble of selling something when you can give it away for free?