He opened his eyes and saw the world sideways.

Everything was blurry and there was a pounding in his head that felt as if someone had hit him with something large.

He blinked and winced. Blinking made the pain worse. He tried lifting a hand to his head. He wanted to know what on earth was causing his head to pound so badly. Lifting his arm hurt too and he realized that it wasn’t just his head that hurt, but his whole body. And he winced again.

The moss-covered stripe that he had drooled onto seemed to be some sort of demarcation. He couldn’t see where the end of the line was, but he could make out a building in the distance. There were people standing around too. Why weren’t they paying him any attention? He was lying on the ground, clearly hurt. He could feel the trickle of blood down the back of his head, and down his neck.

He winced again and wondered whether he might give sitting up a try without causing a blood vessel in his head to burst from the pain. He put his palm on the ground beside his cheek and noticed that it was covered in dirt and blood and flakes of what looked like gravel. He couldn’t see if there were any cuts or bruises so he pushed hard against the ground, trying to raise his body upright. It worked right up until he tried to use his other arm to support him. A red mist of pain fell over him and he screamed loud and long.

There was a rush of footsteps coming towards him.

‘Ha! They finally noticed me, did they?‘ he thought to himself.

Someone fell to their knees beside him; he heard the impact on the concrete and managed to think, ‘That must’ve hurt.‘

“Dude! What happened? Where do you feel pain? What’s the last thing you remember? Where did you come from?”, someone babbled at him.

“I don’t remember …”, he started to say and realized that the only sound he made was a loud moaning.

And that started the images. He remembered!

There was a building behind him, he remembered that now. He had been standing on the edge of the roof on that building contemplating life. The roof was slippery and his foot slipped. He had fallen off the roof! Three stories! He had fallen three stories and lived! Amazing!

The red mist cleared enough for him to realize that there was a crowd gathered. He could hear someone yelling something that sounded like a description of injuries. There was a woman probing his right leg. Someone else was holding his head in place, saying something that sounded like “Should we be moving him? Let’s wait for the ambulance.”

Through all the confusion, one question nagged at him: had he jumped? He wasn’t suicidal. His life was fine. Did he really just slip? Or did he jump? He couldn’t remember.

It was going to be a long climb upwards out of the pain, through the healing, to the answer.

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I don’t have to write 400-600 formatted words everyday, I don’t even have to have anything to review or report everyday. I just have to put some words on the screen, and click publish.

This is how I have to get back into practice.

Struggling to figure out what to write about, and how to not offend … Shouldn’t be a restriction or a limitation – it should be THE subject.

Once I start, sometimes I find I have a LOT more to say than I had initially thought.

So many times, these days, I find that what I want to say is likely to offend.

I need to stop thinking that way and just write.

Nothing wrong with voicing my opinion, is there?

That I hate having to defend it or bump heads with others over my opinion shouldn’t be relevant to whether I write or not. There are ways to write about something without being offensive.

I do avoid REALLY well these days. Probably not something I should be proud of, but there it is. Instead of really digging into a thing, I just avoid it. I’ve been avoiding writing because I am afraid of offending.

I get on the defensive so often too – it’s as if I think everyone in the world is out to make me look stupid or to contradict me. So untrue – when will I get that? People have different opinions than I. This is not news to me. It’s always been like that. Since when did it become a problem?

Actually – I know when … It was when I was attacked for voicing my own opinion in response to someone else’s.

See? There are ways to write potentially offensive content without begin offensive. No one even knows what I’m talking about there – do you?

Stay tuned – this COULD get better.

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There was once a time when I truly loved to blog. I filled paragraph after paragraph with drivel or opinion or rants. It was all truly personal and extremely subjective … and sometimes downright hateful.

Apparently, I have either lost that ability – or motivation – or I don’t remember how to.

In those days, I was not known – I was invisible, simply another voice in a sometimes discontent sea of voices. It didn’t matter what I had to say because no one could take personal offense to what I was saying. I could rant and rave in relative anonymity and not think for a second that I was going to be causing harm to others.

Things have changed and just by virtue of who I have become – per se – I am no longer anonymous and what I say DOES matter and WILL offend.

I still have my opinions, most of which are now so inflammatory that I am sometimes afraid to even THINK them much less write about them in a public forum like this blog is. Lately, I have realized that the inflammatory nature of these thoughts and opinions is not only not improving, it is getting worse. And I am moving further away from a time when I could speak freely and anonymously.

I sit and watch people express themselves on Twitter, on Facebook … even on Google+ and I realize that were I to open my mouth about any of the subjects that are now on constant debate I am either so far out of the loop as to cause the wrath of the ages to be called down on me for my ineptitude to research … or I am so far beyond the “norm” that I get the wrath of ages called down on me for my opinion and insight.

Hell, I find even when I state my mind in simple, non-judgmental terms without even attempting to incite debate and drama, I get it anyway.

Therefore, there should be no doubt as to why I have become silent in the last few months.

Unfortunately, it has hampered my ability and my propensity for fluency and it is beginning to affect my work… at this point in time, I can no longer write as I used to because I can no longer find the words to express myself. I am out of practice. Badly out of practice.

As a result, this blog has become a sparse collection of random topics ranging from a recitation of events as they have occurred in my life or a random miscellaneous commentary or review on some new geek toy or service that I have “discovered” for myself.

Not exactly how I want to be.

And so … I have decided that I need to write again – as anonymously as I once used to. For that, I have chosen to move my rants, opinions and scorching commentary somewhere else – somewhere anonymous – where whether or not one wants to be offended or not is separate and apart from my so-called public persona. A place where only a few select actually know me and care about what I think – no matter what it is – and respect for me even having an opinion.

The rest of you will have to deal with my random miscellaneous posts if and until you can prove to be as discerning and objective of what I choose to speak about as I expect you to be.

My apologies. It may seem harsh to you – and maybe even unnecessarily drastic, but I must attempt to save the one thing I have always loved to do … and that is, to write.

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Another day is born In the stillness of The Wonder of Sunrise I am thankful to Be able to witness Yet another morning.

I wrote this on Christmas morning, 2010 whilst I sat in church with my parents and my very good friend Gail and watched the sun rise outside. What a beautiful thing, sunrise.

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