June 12, 2003
A long time ago, my mother told me to never write anything down on paper that I didn't want my father to read. Well...that eliminated most everything in my world!

I loved Dad (still do, but that was a different time). However, he had quite conveniently placed the fear of Him (not God - I was fine with God - I knew at an early age that God was fully aware of everything I was doing. He and I were working those things out on our own) in me.

Anyway, the fear of Dad. I always said that whatever Dad didn't know wouldn't hurt me! It was a much safer existence.

To be totally honest, I'm not sure whether Dad placed this fear in me - or mom did. It worked to her advantage that I was afraid of his wrath. She didn't have to fight too hard with me to get me to stay in line. One threat of Dad finding out that I had done something wrong was enough to stop my bad behavior.

As I got older, it had all backfired. I felt it difficult to approach Dad for things I wanted. And by this time - it was to his advantage. He could easily tell mom "no" when she asked him for something (or permission to do something) for me. I was too afraid of his "no" to approach him on my own. She kept trying to tell me that he wouldn't be able to say no to me. I didn't believe her - because he was always willing to say no to her for me!

So, quite honestly, I didn't want Dad to know much about my life. It was much safer for me that way. And I didn't write things down.

More reality: Dad gave us all amazing privacy. He never would have read anything that I wrote down. Mom would have, though <giggle>. But what she was trying to impress on me was that I needed to be careful that what I wrote down on paper. Things that would hurt people, things that were very personal to me...these things were not necessary to be put in a format that was relatively permanent.

The wierd thing about all of this - is that as you are looking through this website, you will see that my mother was an amazing writer! So, why, instead of completely encouraging me in my creative writing, did she give me any hint of negativity? I have no idea. I've turned out to be a lousy journaler. I desperately want to be good at it - but I stink. No, the writing isn't awful (maybe boring at times), but I can do it for a short period of time and I'm finished. I get really disgusted at myself. I have short-term journals spread out all over the place. They range from basic diary-type forms, to prayer journals. So, now I'm simply thankful for my emails - they tend to be my daily journal. I keep everything that I've written. So, as long as my computers don't completely die - and all of the back up CDs don't disintegrate, I finally have a record of my thoughts during the day.

Oh, by the way - yes, that does mean that I'm an avid emailer. As long as someone will write back to me, I'll pour my life out via email. Max says that I "play email" like he plays video games.

I used to love to write letters, but as I've gotten older I'm confident that my typing ability far outweighs my handwriting. I can type so much faster than I write and that allows my fingers to finally keep up with my brain. I love the instant gratification of signing an email and having it immediately sent. And my friends are able to respond to me quickly, also. It's a good thing for me - all the way around.

Now my website is out there for the world to see - and what I write can be read by my father and anyone else who logs on. I guess I'm going to have to figure out how much I want him (and everyone else) to know about me. Come along for the ride!