Rebirth

Hi. I came back.

I'm sorry, I went about this all wrong. I was sad when I wrote that last post, sad for almost the entire day from when "Amelia" said, "People skills? Tell that to Lily!" It was so unnecessary, so unrelated, such a low blow. To read me reasoning out something like law school and pounce on the fact that I say I have people skills and use it to hurt my feelings, to bring up something so painful. I stayed sad about Lily all day--I'm sad about her for part of every day. I'm sad in the grocery store when I see havarti dill cheese because I think about the afternoon she made havarti dill sandwiches at her apartment in Brooklyn, all the little things like that she loves; I'm sad when I put on chapstick because sha always had a tube of cherry chapstick in her pocket. It's so unkind and unneccesary to try to make me feel sad about Lily. And to say I don't have people skills because of the unexpected and frankly devastating dissolution of a seven-year friendship during one of the hardest times in my life. From the old regulars I treat warmly at Starbucks even when I don't feel like it to the models from the Midwest that I made feel comfortable on the sets at FHM shoots to the soldiers in whose living rooms I sat and to whom I listened as they talked about the Iraq war, yeah, I think I have some motherfucking people skills.

But I wasn't just sad about that. I was sad that the haters had taken all the fun out of blogging. Their voices absolutely choke out the joy it used to be to write about my days, who I met, what I saw and heard. There are people who lurk and read these posts just waiting to find something about which they can be unkind under weak pseudonyms. It used to be so much fun, and it used to make me a better writer. Now I'm an infrequent blogger, so able, as I am, to see where I might be attacked if I tell this story or share that joy. There is plenty to attack about me as there would be about anyone who made themselves such an easy target as I do. But I don't want to stop blogging.

Pigeon in the Sun was a wonderful experiment in openness and it was, as I said, Wonderful, Mostly. But I'd like to start a new, anonymous blog, one that potential employers and former classmates and whoever these lurking jerks are won't find just by googling my name.

So if you're a friendly reader, please write me and I'll send you the URL and put your email address in so you have access and we'll do this again, right. I still want to write for JAG and Redcane and Bessie and Martin and Sparks and Carlos and a whole slew of wonderful people who have made me so glad I did Pigeon in the Sun. There'll be no more anonymous or pseudonymous commenting, and I won't have to wince when I write something that made me joyful for fear someone would suck the joy right out of it with their cruelty. This is an important forum for me and I love it. I don't want to give it up because a few people are cowardly and mean. I want this to be fun.

You know where to find me. I hope you're doing beautifully, and that you had as restful and joyful a Saturday as I did. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go write about it.

Love,
Pigeon