The Revelator

Working retail has its rewards; mindless tasks create open hours to simply think. Today's thought: It's absolutely amazing how a successful writer can seem to reveal so much about themselves when in reality they reveal nothing. The ability to seem to divulge inner delicacies while never saying enough to be vunerable--wow. I wonder if its something that is done subconsciously or whether it is intentional. I think about this blog journal, two years in the making. How much have I actually divulged and how much has simply been the shavings off a deeper block of truth? I want to be open, I want to be upfront, but I don't quite get what my purpose in that is. Approval? Do I seek to make myself a caricature of myself? I've heard it said that a person is made up of three things: who they are, who they think they are, and who other people see them being. Do these ever coincide? Does time reveal it all? Great, now I've got Gillian Welch's Time (The Revelator) stuck in my head...

Sidebar:
Today I remembered how much I love Austin City Limits. I am a dork that way I guess but holy crap do they have amazing guests on that show.

Other sidebar:
It snowed today. First snow of the season. I hate snow. I hate cold. Why did I move north? (Did you like I started this post being introspective and ended it talking about the weather? Nice touch, eh?)