While I’m waiting for my friends to arrive, I call my father and bring him up to speed.
This is torture, I tell him. I rant and rave and laugh at my own jokes. I’m on a roll.
I cannot believe the absurdity of my life right now.
You sound great, he says. Energized!
I feel free! I tell him. I’ve just discovered a new restaurant! I just found out I’m the kind of person who people like enough to change their plans for! I feel like I’ve been sprung from jail!
Then why are you upset? he asks.
Because I have so much I want to say and I can’t say it!
Why can’t you say it? he asks.
Because the divorce lawyer told me, no blogging, no Twitter, no Facebook, keep your mouth shut until everything has been signed by the judge. I am mute for my own good.
Hah, says my father. You need a stealth blog. An anonymous blog.
Oh. That’s a good idea. Suddenly, my mind is full of possibilities.
I already have a blog, of course, and one with a lot of readers at that. Among those readers: The Departed, The Foreigner, my mom. Bachelor #3. I can see them all stop in and visit.
I could never really say what I wanted to say, I had to edit myself so carefully.
I’ve been in jail, and now I’m sprung – at last, I tell my father. An anonymous blog.
Finally, I feel free.
So while I meet my friends for pie (two kinds!), my father sets up my new blog for me.
Welcome, strangers.
Leave a Reply