I don’t know whether to write or cry. So I’ll do both.    

Twenty years ago, if you had asked me to hit the keyboard and write an essay, I would have raced to the desk, sent fingers flying across the keys and finished with this page by now. In the early 90s, I was one of the first amateur writers to set up a website, posting a weekly column for more than four years.

Things have certainly changed. Today everyone has a website. Many have several…I have three.

We all have something to say…and to show off…  Facebook, YouTube, Twitter and more. The explosion of the Internet is breathtaking in the course of world history. Years after I set aside my first website in the late 90s, today everyone has something to write about, and it is all there…posted online.

For more than a decade, I wrote, I published, I posted.  Then suddenly, flipping a switch, it was over.  There was no singular, heart-rending reason…but making a personal declaration to reclaim my life, I turned away from a lifetime of writing.

I enjoyed my break from a life spent at the computer. Instead of writing, I threw myself into doing…trying to make a real difference on this planet. It was great to go to the Internet to read the work of others…so many talented writers who finally had a place to reveal their wisdom unimpeded by editors and publishers.

Unfortunately, today, I again have something that needs to be said. And it looks like the only way I will be able to say it is on the Internet. That means writing…hours…and hours at the computer. Aargh!

Last night, looking under every rock and pebble, trying to find a way to avoid this task, I searched the Internet for a webpage that handily expressed my views.  It would say what needed to be said, and I could return to a quiet existence.  I had truly hoped to be able to cry and read.

Alas, I must write and cry.

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