Not-so-private privacy...

...is what these journals afford us. When we conceal our identities -- at least to the extent most of us do -- we feel free to say much that we would never say to others in our "real" lives.

I know for many who read this journal I must seem about as cheery as Kim Jong-il brandishing a Taepodong-2. I've gotten messages from well-meaning folks -- though not as often as I did at the old place -- telling me, in essence, to "lighten up" and "get on with life."

Unfortunately, you who visit here get to see a much more accurate portrayal of what's really happening in my world than does anyone who meets me in person. For them, I keep up a facade of good cheer, cloak whatever happens at home or work in a positive skin. In short, I am relentlessly optimistic no matter what gets thrown at me.

Sometimes, the facade cracks a bit, I admit. Being nice to people who are, intentionally or otherwise, laying more difficulties on one is hard work. So is being cooperative with people who ask for favors they have no intention of -- or have a track record of forgetting about -- repaying. But it is necessary.

Those relatively close to me have no idea what I'm going through.

You, on the other hand, do. Even if I choose to omit details and identities. Even if I edit out things that might make you -- or me -- think less of other people involved.

I do both, by the way. Whatever else I may be, I intend to behave as honorably as possible, do my best not to betray things said in confidence or give anyone cause not to trust me, even when the end result works against my best interests.

At times, I fail to do even that much. But I try.

Which is why so many potential entries here have never made it beyond rough-draft stage.

There is a point to all this, believe it or not. And this is it:

I would much rather be telling you about good things.

Nothing would please me more than to lay out the details of people in my personal life who live up to their commitments; who receive and don't abuse my trust in them; who show the same loyalty to me that I give them; who enjoy my successes, forgive my failures; who accept my love and love me in return.

Nothing would please me more than to record the instances when people at work react with the same level of professionalism I try to display at all times; who reward my hard work and skill in the proper manner.

When any of those things happen, you can bet I will write about them here.

The sad reality is that none of them are happening now.

That doesn't mean they won't. A part -- shrinking daily, but still there -- of my optimism is genuine.

For the moment, I am one unhappy camper, and this is my place to let the misery out of my head, for whatever good that does me.

With luck, it will all change one day. Soon, I hope.

That would make you happier, I'm sure. And you can imagine what it would do for me.