Goal: To never again write something less than what I mean.
Reality: I will fail this goal time and time again.

There is no purpose in writing something that others can produce, no desire in my heart to guide my writing, or faith, or life, by some other's expectation of "how things should be."

Recognition: The very desire to achieve my goal has put me on the path to triumph.

People can never escape a prison they don't know exists. The bars I'm grappling are bars buried so deep into our culture, so present and so dangerous, they threaten not only to enslave but to entomb. My culture wants nothing more than for me to be quiet, stop shouting about the idiocy of religion, to stop standing for a dying ecology, to hush up about the difficult questions I have about the foundations of our society.

Promise: I can't, won't, and refuse to still my voice. Anyone who asks otherwise is an enemy to truth.