Where ya bean

When I was a kid, I thought we were all human beans.

Green beans. Lima beans. String beans. Jumping beans. Baked beans.

And human beans.

Learning that I'm not a bean was one of the single most disappointing moments of my childhood.
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Speaking of my childhood, I've spent the past year dissecting every aspect of my existence in a class Jim calls Charm School.

It's over now.

And this is one of the first Tuesday nights I've had free since last year around this time.

I went into the class thinking I was relatively self aware (food issues, anger issues, and maybe some - yikes - sex issues) but overall a relatively healthy, functioning human bean.

The class helped me figure out some pretty important things about myself and it took a lot of my time and energy to do so. Thus the lack of writing.

Or the lack of public writing anyhow.
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Here's the thing: Way back in Oh Hell Whenever I started writing here, I swore I'd tell the truth.

The unedited, unpretty, and the unpolished.

I uncovered a lot more of that sort of stuff in Charm School and it became decidedly dangerous and uncomfortable to let some of it fly here.

Or maybe I'm just a coward.

Anyhow. That's the poop.

This feels like I'm easing back into something comfortable and comforting, so we'll see where it goes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: The fan on the Mac
I am reading: Hawaii by James Michener
And I am: FINE