Why

I suppose, like with all beginnings, I need an explanation, even if this is only to the ether.

This is my secret cranny, where the part of me that seldom sees daylight will live. It's funny - you carry this other person inside you your whole life, and in most cases, she never gets to have her say.

Well now, I do.

Not that I have multiple personalities, but I think I need somewhere to vent. About life. About the other half. About the job that is such a chore to wake up to most days. About the fact that as an adult, the political landmine of friends and family often don't permit a woman to be completely and brutally honest and wavering about her self and her life without the repercussions hitting you in the face later over a dinner or a tea.

This is what I've learned in over three decades: Everything has a consequence. Even those things we girls hold sacred, like crying on a friend's shoulder. In fact, at times, that's the worst of the lot. Cry, feel better for three seconds, and then pay back for the rest of your life by having to put up with 'I told you so's' at best, and at worst, some tangential judgemental comment six months down the road.

Enough said.