I’ve self-censored. An entry from yesterday is no more, copied off to the lock-and-key world of LiveJournal.

It wasn’t so much that the post itself was so revealing. It’s more that today I have a great deal more to say on related health matters, but I don’t think I want to blog about my health right now. It’s not the whole “wow, that’s so personal” factor. It’s more that I feel as if to write about my personal health issues is to subconsciously, or maybe blatantly (I’m not really sure), ask other people–who might know me or might not know me–to give a crap.

I have very few rules here in this blog. But I think I’ve found that, while I generally write with the hope that someone will give a crap about whatever subject I’m writing about–John Edwards, Dick Cheney, religious fanatics, sucky Sprint customer service, Charles Nelson Reilly, my dog Herman–I feel extremely uncomfortable when I realize that I’ve made the subject Toastie, because that then implies that someone is supposed to give a crap about Toastie, and that is NOT the purpose of this blog.*

* Or, at least, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.