My first post in a week. What’s up with that? Have I run out of things to say? Am I bored with myself? Am I stressed and busier than usual?
No, nah, and nope.
I simply needed a break. We’ll see how long the break lasts; for all I know, I’ll kick back into gear this week…However, I’m predicting that I won’t. Mostly because these two adorable boys, my nephews, Trevor and Andrew (Christmas 2007), arrive today for their annual summer visit. I can count on getting nothing done while they’re here, which is as it should be.
Meanwhile, I wonder if anyone out there can relate to this: This blogging thing, it’s meant to be fun, right? For now, for me, it’s a hobby. But, since I’m me, and I apparently like flogging myself, I crack that whip if I don’t blog two-three times a week, if I don’t vary my posts between fluff and more serious stuff, if I don’t visit other blogs to keep up with what’s going on, if I don’t…etcetera etcetera etcetera.
In other words, I’ve allowed blogging to become another responsibility, another task on the to-do list, another endeavor that could lead to failure (whatever that means) if I don’t do it just right — and God forbid my stats plummet! Oh no! Am I losing readership? Are my fellow bloggers bored with me? Do people still like me? Will I get fired?
Ugh. Puh-leeze. Even I have to remind myself that the blogosphere isn’t reality. It’s barely reality-based. It’s all about the personas we choose to show others…I wouldn’t say anyone who only knows me through my blog actually knows me, just as I don’t actually know any of my blogger pals. (This could be a whole ‘nother post and chat…)
Enough of that. Extending the break another week is obviously a good idea. I have reality to see to, which this afternoon includes dog-washing because the boys are eager to meet Luna and best paw forward, right?
I have a writer-friend who always, every day, gives herself permission to quit writing. Somehow, it liberates her to continue writing. So, I hereby allow myself not to blog.
(That said, check back next week, ‘kay?)
I love autumn, which, for me, begins the Tuesday after Labor Day. Like seasonal clockwork, the faintest chill now underscores the warmth and sunlight slants in at a pleasing angle, diffuse and soft. I welcome getting caught behind school buses, and I long for a brand-new binder with dividers and plastic pockets.
Most of all, my energy will rebound. It already has. After a scattered summer, I’m ready to focus again, remind myself of the girl I used to be, the one who adored starting school with a brand-new binder with dividers and plastic pockets — not to mention a clean slate.
