A Brief Interlude (#21)

Tonight's post is messy. Many apologies. But then my thoughts have been that way of late, and poetry, even the best of it, is a muddled affair for a slow-minded person like myself. And those are the two things I have for you today: my mind and poetry.

Don't worry, I will not have you experience second-hand embarrassment. There will be no sharing of my own poems, all of which were written in a short period of time, in middle school. 

You're not missing anything.

(Here is a small glimpse into that poetry portfolio of mine: one of my poems was a about a lighthouse. I like how the house stands separate from the lighthouse. There is an interesting relationship going on there.)

A Deep Breath (#16)

Me talking to my faithful reader.

It's almost 6 pm on a Sunday as I sit down to write another blog post. The laundry is done, except for some towels. Those are easy to separate and fold, so I am not worried about them. Dinner is finished, though the leftovers have to be put away. But that is why I filled an entire kitchen cabinet with Rubbermaid containers. Finally, no dishes remain, except for a small pot containing rice, and a slow cooker pot filled with shredded chicken. Now, those two are the kind of things that will weigh on my mind. I would get up right now and put these things away. However, that would inspire me to tackle the remaining load of laundry. Which requires a trip up and down two flights of stairs. Plenty of opportunity for something, or someone, to distract me from writing. 

My procrastination would love nothing more than an excuse not to finish this post. 

So, all that will have to wait while I wrap up this post. At this point, I'm unable to see tonight's entry lasting much longer. I have no answer to last week's query. During the past week, plenty of reasons crossed my mind. The browser on my phone has over one hundred open windows begging to be blogged about. Even today, several strong motives appeared before me. Funny how just a few words from out of nowhere can get you thinking about life. Then there are the two existential threats, from AI projects of all things, that have me questioning why I should bother to pursue my drawing and writing goals. Yet, I can't commit to any one of them. Not at this time.    

However, don't worry, I'm not planning on giving up on blogging. Not any time soon.

After all, I sat down and wrote this post.   

Confessions (#20)

My lantern prototype.

I almost did not blog tonight, and I spent the last hour explaining my reasons. After three-hundred-and -seventy words of complaining, it occurred to me that these were just excuses for my debilitating habits. The same habits I have discussed before: poor planning, procrastinating, overreaching. Tonight's content sounded repetitive. Worse, it was all coming from a bad place. This week was busy, with little to show for it; this weekend exhausting, filled with disappointments. The post reeked of these negative feelings. While writing about pain and suffering is necessary and cathartic, these subjects require careful and deliberate execution. That demands time and focus. Otherwise, I am just ranting and raving, spewing vile into the universe. And the universe needs far less negative expression these days. 

Then it came to me. A question. 

Why AM I still blogging?

Before you panic, dear reader, I do not intend to give it up. Nor do I wish to take a sabbatical, even a short one. However, I felt a need to confess this inner thought. This troubling confession may be the culmination of this past week's frustrations. Like the pangs of indigestion rising up after a holiday of binging, provoking the need to reevaluated your diet, lest you want your body to suffer worse consequences in the days and weeks ahead. Or, it may be the inevitable result of all this introspection. Writing week after week about personal details is like peeling away layers of flooring in an old house. Eventually you will reach the original install. Only then will you realize whether it was worth the effort.  

Why AM I still blogging?

Thirty-one months and one-hundred-and-seventy-six posts later, it is an important question to ask. It is also natural, because the original reasons may no longer apply. In the beginning, there were three.  Two are obvious, just read the first few posts. The third, not so much. I have only alluded to it perhaps once, maybe twice. Unfortunately, for you, I do not have the energy to find it (my guess is I labeled it as a "confession"). After all this time writing about whatever came to my mind on a Sunday night, coupled with a list of failed projects from this past week, I am not surprised that this question showed up.

Why AM I still blogging?

Whatever answers come to the surface right now, are not meant to last. Trust me, my initial responses are quite messy and foul. They are like the proto-DNA strands arising from the primordial soup. Yet, while their presence may disappear from future iterations, their initial existence is necessary in order for the process to begin. And sharing this question is but the first step in search of a conclusion.

Why AM I still blogging?

Sorry, good reader, I do not have an answer. I am not sure when it will come to me. But, rest assured, I will be asking it constantly over the next few weeks. After all, it is an important question.

In the meantime, I have a dishwasher to start, and a load of laundry to fold. Among a million other things.

Why AM I still blogging?

 

My Second and Final Attempt.