G'day all you curious types!

I know I have ink in my veins, the royal blue blood of the Fourth Estate inherited from a line of journalists and newspaper editors.
I've always liked writing.
However, I am still not sure that blogging like this is quite my thing… really, honestly and truly.
After all, in many ways I'm actually quite a private person.
I'll just as soon write about you than I'll write about me.

But since mad scientist DKC likes his lab rats to jump through the little hoops he makes for them, I am giving this a go to see if the hoop needs to be made anymore kinky in order to fit.

A few months ago I confided something very personal to a couple of friends.
I chose just them, and only them, because I particularly valued their perspectives and knew they would do just as the best of friends do… sift the wheat from the chaff, save the wheat and blow the chaff away.
Since then others have wanted me to share more of my personal life, and some are hurt when I don't.
I don't mean to upset my friends because they are poeple who really do matter to me.
But I'm just not always much of a talker… and maybe not much of a blogger as well.
Not that a blog has to be about anything terribly personal and private, of course.

Psalm 62:
1 My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him.
2 He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

We feel the outpouring of grief into the heart of a friend to be so sweet.
At the same time, he who talks much of his troubles to men is apt to fall into a way of saying too little of them to God; while, on the other hand, he who has often experienced the blessed alleviation which flows from silent converse with the Eternal, loses much of his desire for the sympathy of his fellows.
It appears to me now as if spreading out our distress too largely before men served only to make it broader, and to take away its zest; and hence the proverb, "Talking of trouble makes it double."
On the contrary, if when in distress we can contrive to maintain calm composure of mind, and to bear it always as in the sight of God, submissively waiting for succour from him, according to the words of the psalmist, Truly my soul waiteth upon God: from him cometh my salvation; in that case, the distress neither extends in breadth nor sinks in depth.
It lies upon the surface of the heart like the morning mist, which the sun as it ascends dissipates into light clouds.
Agustus F. Tholuck, in "Hours of Christian Devotion," 1870.