A few months ago, I bought a beautiful, leather bound journal with hand-made paper pages, hand-sewn binding and an enormous brass latch on the front capable of seriously braining someone if I so choose. The thought at the time was that I would start the journal at the beginning of this year and put away my previous one that has become little more than a cartoon-catch-all, complete with travel sketches, odd quotes and very little entries about my life. Anyone who flipped through it would probably think I was a mental patient.

As of today, that new journal is still sitting in the drawer.

When I started this blog a few months ago, I didn’t think it would become as addictive as it has. I didn’t think anyone would want to read about the seriously disturbed mice running around in my noggin. I was just throwing this stuff out into the ether and having some fun with the sometimes crazy and other times seriously pissed-off responses I would received.

And none of this is to be provocative because oddly enough, I found I am completely honest about that which I write here. I didn’t think that would be the case. I’m not sure why that is the case. It’s strikes me as weird that I am more honest with total strangers reading my sometimes very personal notions on life than I am with those close to me.

Why is that? Seriously, pay attention to conversations you have and a lot of it revolves around people talking about their feelings. Very little of it addresses the thought process behind it. I can tell anyone what I am feeling. I can tell very few the “why” behind it. But the “whys” all seem to be right here. I just didn’t notice until now.

It’s an odd relationship to have, this digital confidant. And I do mean relationship. Under the quasi-cover of anonymity, I seek advice, I give advice, I joke, I share, I “listen”, and I converse with other person just like myself (I assume, and Dog help you if you are) that I have come to…dare I say “trust”?

I fight with some other bloggers much like I would fight with my brothers. I joke with others like I would joke with close friends. Maybe this is what it’s like to have a “Second Life”?

So, that all being said, welcome to my “family”. If you’re not Irish, get some, things will make more sense that way…that and a stiff and neat Jameson in a really good crystal highball glass always seem to work for me.