With all due respect to Bill Murray

Because it isn't enough that I spin my brain on a self-preservationist riff for a few days, I had to devolve into this whole right-to-privacy thing and my mind stalled at 30,000 feet. When I was in high school, there were these two guys. It could be said I dated one or both of them. Depends on your definition of dating. They were buddies and the subsequent chill ('cuz there HAD to be drama) between them and me? It never fully warmed. They got the last laugh, though. As they were graduating, the H.S.'s art magazine published a short story they wrote. About a rat. A nice rat, who gets caught and dies. Maudlin, sad, oh! What of my poor rat family?! And they named the rat after ME. No, not my first name. There can BE NO CONFUSION. My LAST name. Yeah. They won the "last word" contest there. So even if I had a head thicker than mahagony, I'd still have been sensitized to what is done in writing. Some bloggers leave the glass window between their lives open and clear. Some use 20 layers of thick fabric (like velvet, lined with felt). It's a new world and there needs to be new rules. Until universal ones emerge, I'll have to have some of my own. Glib, sure. Sentimental, pedestrian, even trite. But not careless. Sometimes, it just doesn't matter. Sometimes, it does. I'll do my best to figure out which is which as I go along. Onward.