I am not sure if anyone will be listening, but I'm gonna be talking.

On occasion I like to re-read some of the crap that has been produced from my fingertips in past blawg entries.  My first ever post was on February 10, 2005.  I thought I was breaking some crazy, wild ground in the world of criminal defense investigators…becoming the first blogging PDI!

I'm starting this blog because quite honestly, we PD Investigator's deserve to get a little attention and/or recognition once in a while. I think we all have some interesting stories to tell that never make it to the courtroom but need to be heard. I guess I also just need a place to vent....vent the pressures of work and life too I suppose. I am not sure if anyone will be listening, but I'm gonna be talking.

Did I succeed in being a groundbreaker?  Not so much...BUT!  

Now that I’ve re-read my first blawg post I’m reminded of why I started blawging to begin with…to tell my stories.  Somehow I've lost my sense of purpose, the whole reason I first started Tales Of A Public Defender Investigator, and I want to get back on track, back in some type of rhythm.  

I just don't write from the heart as much anymore.  It seems like my writings have come more from the need not to let the blawg die.  One that came to mind was one I wrote almost four (in a few more months) years ago, when I first started blogging. 

I had a dream last night. A bad one.

It involved me being accused of murdering someone that was beating the crap out of a friend of mine (in the dream it was her husband, in real life she is a lesbian...yeah, I know I didn't say it was a normal dream). I remember that I was scared shitless because I knew I had committed the murder. I also remember watching the cops searching the warehouse where I had hidden the body behind a huge pile of boxes of Kleenex and everytime they got near the pile of boxes I was yelling at them to distract them.

I don't remember how, but they found the body and they decided that I was going to be executed right there in the warehouse. I kept telling them that I needed to call my friends and family to let them know where I was and that I loved them but it didn't matter. I just remember them all pointing guns and throwing baseball bats at me. When I woke up I remember something had hit me hard in the head...I don't remember how I died...

I'm not a great writer, in fact I'm not even a good writer...I don't think thats why people read my blog though.  I DO think that I'm better and more interesting when I write from the heart and I think what has kept me from doing that is my fear of being discovered.  I'm content with the fact that if I am discovered, it won't be the end of the world and I'll just have to deal with whatever happens. 

I've realized I'm okay with being discovered for a while now because I've even allowed people I've met through the blog to be friends on my personal Facebook page.  They can see me, my friends, and where I live.  Granted, they are usually people I know I can trust but still, its something I never thought I would do.

I do enjoy receiving emails from investigators (and a few private folks) who think I have some secret Myspace Investigative contacts that will give me information on people not accessible by others....I don't.  

My point? I don't want to become known for being the Myspace Investigator Guy...I want to be the Public Defender Investigator that has been through the shit and back again with a bunch of fuckin cool stories.   I think I'm still working my way back from the shit, but I know I still have a lot to say, so once again, I am not sure if anyone will be listening, but I'm gonna be talking.