I get emails all the time from people asking me why I don’t write very much right now.

Am I sick? Am I too busy? Am I depressed? Is it Gradon’s fault? Am I spending all the time I used to spend blogging on the phone? Was blogging filling a void now filled by Gradon? Am I unable to log in to my account? Has my life taken a strange turn that leaves me unable to relate it to you in text?

The answers?

Yes. Yes. No. I wouldn’t say so. Depends on the night. Ha — no… no void. No, I can get in. And sometimes.

The truth is, I’ve never had such a busy time in my life. And I’ve never had such an exciting time in my life. And while the latter makes me want to jump online and spill my guts on this page, the former means I sometimes lack the will to come up with guts to spill.

But I always know when I haven’t been coming here to do what I do, because my brain gets far too clogged up to function.

This is my release valve, my soapbox, my wishing well, my burial ground, my self-named thing that prevents me from being TOO self-righteous about the fact that Oprah names everything after herself.

This is me.

And though I’ve been blogging since 2004, I don’t think I’ve ever had as much to blog about at any point in those five years as I have in the past year of my life.

Which, of course, is why I slowed right down.

Because I always know what to say when there is nothing to say — but doing justice to this full phase of my existence is something else entirely.

But I know I need it.

And you’re still here, right?