Dear reader,

Somehow you've found me and that's great. I mean it. Just not with exclamation points, or marks if you prefer. You are reading this because you've come here before and for some reason decided to check back in again. Maybe you've RSS-fed this site, which I've heard about but no little about.

I think you should know that I've lost contact with many people of my past and that this site is how they might find out about my doings. Maybe that's you. I think in some way's we've all gone through some turbulent times as of late. And by as of late I mean right now, a culmination of the time so far.

At points we might have lost purpose. We might not have been sure what the purpose was. Maybe we've given up in some ways. Settled with who we are, who we listen, talk to. We've grown comfortable with the lives we have. They are, after all, ours.

Some of us have shut others out from our immediate circle. We don't call or send care packages nearly enough. It didn't occur all at once, or maybe it did -- some of us don't forget, some would rather forget things. But what's lost in not communicating is everything we once had and the chance for anything we might have again.

There are reasons for how it got this way: it's easier to not talk and at the the same time hard to get back to get back in touch. We lose numbers or haven't dialed them in too long a time, so it's hard to do so. And, we don't have time, none of us. We make excuses. We factor in time zones, work hours, and the significant others of others.

However.

Next month I will have been in Portland for three years. I'll also turn 28-years old. Or 28-years-young if you want to put it in that middle-aged-woman (truth too trite to say) way. Moving here I left behind a previous life to reinvent myself in this new environment. In many ways I've done that, but I have left behind who I once was. Part of that has been meeting new people. Allowing them into my life. In doing so I've lost contact with the old people, not seeing or visiting with friends and family I've had. Fortunately, they haven't died (yet), they're just (as I quote from the Sapranos, even though I never watched) "dead to me." But not really. Just a phone call away. Or email. Or, let me look for my address book, letter.

As I get ready to turn another year older I can't help to think about who I was. That person "I", the "me" back then. Who was that character who called himself "Kit" then "Carson"? Who was he who left his hometown? Who stopped calling people?

But I know better now than ever who I am.

So, If you are looking for something to get me for my birthday you can get a hold of me. Talk to me. Email me or write me a letter. Tell me who you are, and let us catch up. We'll remind each other of who we once were.

I'm selfish, of course, I'm asking this of you. But you know what? If this is enough, reading what I've written on this blog since I've moved to Portland and you'd rather not contact me, you don't have to -- I won't know and you'll rest in my memory folder labeled "then" -- but maybe this will inspire you to contact someone else: a former girlfriend or boyfriend, a father, a mom, a brother or sister, a grandmother, a grandfather (RIP), a cousin, an uncle, a friend, a closer being who you've been thinking of calling but have not in a long time. When you were someone else.

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