Strippers return to New Orleans Nightlife

So I left my blog dormant for months. It stands to reason that its far less likely anyone I know will read this (though if I ever pick it up on a regular basis, perhaps they will, and almost certainly I'll be too lazy to delete this or restrict access). Anyone aware of this blog as it is connected to me has long since forgotten about it, I would assume. And that gives me licence to be more confessional. Ultimately, I'll never really be confessional here for reasons I've stated. But regular journal keeping just isn't cutting it tonight. I don't know what will help, but this seems worth a try.

I keep a journal in hopes that I can learn how to deal with pain. I look back to bad times and see what came out of me, and what came after. I hope that this can either lend me perspective, show me that something comes after this, or maybe show me what to do. It isn't really helping though. I just get in these modes when I try to take in information, about my life, the lives of others, fictional or real, just to try to feel better. This is strange that I'm even typing words to feel better, isn't it? But I've typed through it before - there is evidence of that in my journal. At least typed until I got tired, went to bed, and woke up in a slightly better mood.