I'd like to apologize.

I've been mentioning all the bad crap that happened in 2006, and publicly debating over whether or not to write about it.

I did it because I really couldn't decide what to do. I've never had such a hard time making a decision in my life (that's not entirely true - I once wet my pants in the toy aisle when I couldn't decide between a Star Wars figure or a GI-Joe).

One problem is that I don't have much perspective on this. I mean, we're talking about most of a year, and many different components to the story. It's been suggested that I think about it for a while before posting, and that's probably the best advice.

But, I want to make a decision. If I leave this open-ended, then I'm going to think about it every day until I finally go through with it.

That's not what I want.

And, things have changed in the past two weeks. There was a point at which I felt that, if I didn't get everything off my chest, I'd go nuts. But, since then, I've gone through this weird reconciliation with my family that leaves me feeling...

...good.

I was telling Carl about it all last week over the phone (he knows about what I went through last year, as well as how life has suddenly improved - the guy gives a damn, which is nice), and he asked me something that stunned me into silence: "What are you going to do without any adversity in your life?"

He was half-joking, but only half. He knows me well enough to know that I do thrive on problems and drama. It's the stuff that keeps me busy. I don't know - maybe I think life would be too boring if it sailed along all the time without any bumps. I've never lived that way. Since birth, I've been a basket-case. Comfort and normality seem foreign and strange to me - like... like an Eskimo. I don't know anything about Eskimos. Their customs and ways are foreign and strange to me. If I met an Eskimo, I wouldn't know how to greet him. Would I shake his hand? I don't know. Do they even have hands? I don't know. Would it be too warm in Seattle for an Eskimo? What would I feed him? PowerBars? Would an Eskimo want to eat a PowerBar? I don't know. Or would he rather eat raw seal liver? I really don't know.

Ergo, comfort and normality seem like Eskimos to me.

See? I can't even talk about it without getting totally effing confused.

The thought has occurred to me that I've been trying to sabotage what seems like a life that's finally settling down into something I wouldn't be constantly fighting.

Have you ever seen someone trying to walk a tiny dog, but the tiny dog doesn't want to go for a walk, so he refuses to operate his limbs, choosing instead to demonstrate his opposition to the flow of things by stiffening his neck and allowing himself to be dragged along the pavement on his bare little doggy butt?

That's me: the little dog whose little doggy butt is getting scraped up because he doesn't want to go for a walk.

To summarize, then, I'm a little dog with a scraped up asshole, and I don't know if Eskimos like PowerBars.

If that isn't confused, then...

Well, it just is. There's no arguing the point.

Clearly, I'm in no proper state of mind to write about anything that could potentially ruin my life. The least I can do for myself is give this "normal" thing a try for a while. If I don't like it, I know enough about emotional dysfunctionality that I could probably get back to it without much difficulty.

I've also gotten quite a few emails and phone calls tonight. I've never gotten so many emails or phone calls over a post before. The results, to my surprise, have been unanimous: it isn't worth it.

I think they're right. I'm putting a lid on it. Instead, I'll go find myself a therapist in Seattle and get my money's worth (insurance pays for it, so that's just a figure of speech - but go with me here - I'm trying to be dramatic).

That's it, then. It's decided. It's done. It's not going to happen.

Which means I can get back to my usual posting.

There really are too many good things going on right now to screw it all up.

Thanks for commenting, emailing, and calling. I would usually trust my own judgment when it comes to writing about something, but I'm obviously too caught up in it to have any kind of an objective viewpoint.

So...

Good night.

I have a headache, and I'm going to bed.