the sound & the fury

my apologies, dear readers, for the silence on this end of the blogosphere as of late. the past two weeks have been odd. i'm attempting to find a way to write about some of it without revealing too much about my characters. it's one thing when i "let it all hang out" about myself--it's an entirely other matter when i write about people i know.

i tend to be quite WYSIWYG (for those non-geeks, the translation: what you see is what you get) about my own thoughts and feelings, but i know most people are not like me in this respect. hence my dilemma: how do i write about my experiences without uncloaking others? i don't have a good answer to this yet. sometimes i wonder if i've already said too much. :-}

so...since i'm still in the process of tweaking my latest entries before posting, i'll offer a parting thought, straight from Macbeth, that aims at a certain peculiar truth of this time.

life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more: it is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.

now if only i could get some help from Faulkner's muse....