Welcome to my internal dialogue. Routinely ridiculous, intermittently inappropriate, periodically profound — and sometimes even alliterative. I have a pretty well-exercised censorship filter running from my brain to my mouth — it’s been fine-tuned from a career path that has meandered through politics, journalism and education. I champion the carefully chosen word.
But every now and again, and by that I mean almost every day, what I would *like* to say is a lot more cathartic. Ever heard that Dear Abby-esque advice to write what you want to say in a letter and then throw it away or burn it? I decided to write the letters, and then put them on the internet.
So this is me, Not Going Postal.