This is an open letter of apology to anyone who read my previous blog post and was offended.

Although I'm no newcomer to blogging, I'm still struggling to find a middle ground between "say whatever the bleep you want" and "be sensitive, people are listening".

So fuck fuck fuck, I can say whatever I want. Whoopdee-poo hoo-ray la la la. The dumb part is that I'm writing naughty things about myself on my own bathroom wall.

Smoking is the opposite of talking to yourself. The former can safely be done in large open places where there's not anything or anyone (living) around. The safest way to talk to yourself, meanwhile, is in a dark room, preferably owned by yourself or your family. You should be under covers. The curtains should be drawn. Sometimes it's fun to cry and pretend people care.

The sad thing about talking to yourself is that it's a great way to think about things. Especially if you're "talking" to say a book (they communicate via flashlight). Or an iPod/Gameboy (Duh, the light's built in). Or maybe you're "talking to yourself" into a phone that got disconnected (ad campaign) or whatever.

Maybe you're just sitting on the fucking Blue Line having good ideas (talking to yourself) about what clever technologies you can apply to your shitty blog that no one reads.

The awkward stares are hard. What's worse is the questions.

What's much worse is coming to the realization that the CleverAd you're staring at that claims Hey-Wanna-Work-In-Software-We've-Got-Cool-Stuff-You-Can-Think-About-All-Day is for a company that builds shitty blogs that no one wants to read. Or more likely bank software. (How the fuck does anyone convince creative people to work on bank software nowadays? )

Actually maybe it's worse when you realize that the candidate that you're "secretly" Googling just wrote you what he (hoped) was a CleverWay to tell you Fuck-Off-Stop-Reading-My-Blog. Sorry for the profanity, but it's the goddamn cloak-and-dagger 'secret' part that pisses me off. I've got a blog. You're reading it. Let's both be adults and realize that it's okay. I also have sex and it's awesome.

Duh.

I was on an impromptu vacation starting August 30th. Sorry if I didn't answer your calls or emails. But I'm back now (I've actually been back for a number of days) and I'm ready to live in the real world again.

Except for the fact that I left my job at Brightcove. Did I mention that? Apparently I got it in my head that I was a 'professional musician' and I didn't need my day job. Can you spot the error in that logic? I can, with three words: source of income.

So now I'm looking for another job. Wish me luck.