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It seems like every post I've written for the past six months begins with me saying that I haven't written in forever. I dread writing that sentence. I hate explaining why so much that I postpone doing it even longer.

But here I am, and I'm writing now.

My father died ten months ago, and I think I am really just now beginning to deal with it. This is a dark night of my soul. I am finally grieving...I think. The only thing I know about grief is that it looks completely different than you expect. I'm angry at everyone and I feel like things aren't going to work out happily. Life is more complex than that, surely, so I know that this is just one thing I can see right now. There's a million other things going on around me and within me, but right now I'm a misanthrope who wants to be left alone. Maybe in a minute or two I'll feel like playing ping pong.