Upon contemplating the complete abandonment of this blog in favour of something completely anonymous, I decided it would be a better idea to simply go forward with a new title.
I have one follower who checks in on a semi-regular basis, so it's not like there's much ceremony to engage in. Cheers to you lone reader. : )
The name "What I Leave Behind" is meaningful to me on a few levels, though it may seem a tad morbid. I am a tad morbid person. (I say this with a laugh.) First and foremost, everything I write here, I leave behind. I may say things time and again, but the words are, and will be, a part of my past. Hopefully dealt-with, celebrated or grieved with honest emotion.
When I started writing in this space I was a different person. The name "Everything But Poopie" was playful, and well-suited to all of my musings about being a dog owner.
I just noticed, that if you remove the letters "o" and "g" from "dog owner", you get "downer".
Perhaps.
I want to leave "myself" behind. In whatever I write. I want to leave a trail of who I am and the scope of what I felt, loved and cared for. Even if it only ever matters to me alone.
There's no goal to be known by those who don't already know me. I just want to leave a picture of "who I am", (or who I was) to anyone who does know me, to find when I'm gone. That sounds positively suicidal, but it's not. Self-indulgent maybe. But the intention is just "hey, I'm mortal".
And quite simply, I need to take everything that's so painfully inward, and release it. To be "known" for what makes me, me. That includes the things that amuse, move and inspire me. Not just anguish.
Therapy. Legacy. Biography. Emotion, wisdom, foolishness and ego.
Carved into the tree bark of the internet...
John was here.
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