My heart is drenched in wine

Sun, he said, "Censorship should be the last thing you practice here." Amrit, she said, "Woman, we are entitled to 98% of you, so spill! Now."

I am re-examining my reasonings behind ianthe lee. Yet again. Remember the last time I re-examined reasonings? This thing called a blog moved from in.a.minute, and evolved to ianthe lee, primarily because I didn't want him privy to my comings and goings, much less my "inner thoughts" any longer. The thought of him reading my words just because he had nothing to do made my skin crawl - which is rather ironic, since y'll are reading them too when you have nothing to do, and "you, a perfect stranger".

I like the discipline of public writing. I like to see where my thoughts are taking me, and indirectly, taking you. I like the weight of the words as I push them out. Ocassionally, when the sun, moon and stars are in alignment, the words flow so quickly from my fingers that I miss the occasional word. But a lot of the time, it's like mining an almost spent gold mine. I know the words are there, but man, it's a bitch trying to wash off the dirt, gravel, mud, whatever the gems are coated in to get at the shiny stuff. stv said, "Words are bastards. But sometimes they pretend to be your friends." They're really not like that. It's just that they're stubborn things, and I'm too rigid with control to let them be what they want to be, especially when it means that the words are revealing the core of me.

I have my many faults, my many vanities, my countless insecurities. I know my less than pretty side. I'm not sure that I want you to know it as well. There is an underlying fear, like most people, that you won't love me anymore if I spill my guts on a daily basis - the fear of rejection is a powerful inhibitor. So I am constantly on my best behaviour, so sweet it'll make your teeth ache, always prattling on about the surface happenings, never letting you have a word in edgewise to reject me.

My heart is a frail little thing, but I am no heroine to sacrifice myself for the good of the people. I'm not going on hiatus. I'll just be a little more ... me?

Denning and I leaving on Sunday on the mid-afternoon flight. Our feet will step on home ground, our eyes meet our parents and our youngest brother's eyes at midnight local time that very night. Joy, I will definitely be in touch next week, and we shall eat eat, drink and be merry.

I am looking forward to the simplicity of family.