I'm not going to mention my family. I went home. It was nice. I'm back.

I'm not sure why I hesitate here, and why I'm unwilling to talk about my family. I guess that, by starting this blog, I made an agreement with myself that I'd make a lot of my own thoughts/ideas/experiences public. But I never asked my family, and they never agreed to any such thing. To insert them in here, to expose them, to discuss them... it seems like a violation.

And hell, I expose them immesely through my poems. But this seems different. I haven't told them about the blog, and I don't think I want to tell you about them. Oddly, it's not that I don't want to share this "intimate" side of me. My family and I have always had our distances, our own spaces. But something is keeping me from opening up about my heritage, my folks, where I come from.

Normally, if you asked me, I would say I'm not protective of my family, of my background. But apparently, I am. For some reason, through these 1's and 0's, I'm holding back.

So it goes.

If you want to know more, get me drunk. Take me into a dark room that's filled with cigarette smoke, and I'll probably say and confess a great deal. But not here.