Untitled: not sure what to call this.

Sometimes it is necessary to just lurch into blurting it all out. Then again, maybe not. There is a large part of the web seemingly devoted to people publicly airing their own existential crises. Do you really want or need another rambling screed?

For some time now I have resolutely ignored the fact that I own a minuscule amount of digital real-estate in the form of a domain name and a WordPress account and that I must honour it with regular blurges of whatever thoughts are making their fleeting way across my mind. Nonetheless, it is nagging far too much so I have visited to make a digital deposit.

It is the third year of my degree, I have transferred university (what a good decision that has proved), had a few girlfriends, am settled with one, watch with slight wonder as my daughter morphs from a child to an adult and worry that it goes well for her.

Essentially, my hopes, fears, anxieties are just versions of those of everyone else. Getting older had taught me that no-one, and I mean no-one, is the unruffled, cool, calm and collected person they may appear to be. They may be far better than you at projecting an aura of confidence, but I guarantee you that they are feeling life’s pressures too.

I am writing more now and feel that I need a release valve as, although I like the general area, the subject material can be a little oppressive. It really is death and destruction and fringe radicals.

And no, this is not Ruskin I speak of but lone-actor terrorists.

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