I hate it when blog posts are like a broken record and become repetative.
As a reader, I enjoy new information and insights, fresh ideas, further reflection, and a bit of storyline development. Iimagine something is developing and’d rather not see it rather than hear the crap is happening.
It is because of this I have not been posting frequently on my blog because I finished my dissertation. Since this blog is charged as a person which is documenting my journey in seeking to”lose half my weight,” if that journey is on a small hiatus at the momentit stands to reason what could get posted would be the same ol’ crap I’ve previously shared. I really feel lost. I am unsure how to receive my attention back. Yadda. Yadda.
Of course, if somebody else had been saying this to me personally, I’d encourage them to change their paradigm somewhat, consider what else might be considered, written around, reflected upon, and explored in order to get one’s mojo back. If someone else were telling me all they needed to mention was the same ol’ crap, then I would say they had some new lenses with which to observe the entire world.
But it’s not someone else.
And if I consider all those lenses out there I might be using, I just want to curl upon the sofa with a cup of java and the latest episode in my discovery of The Wire, and wait for the internal demands I am putting upon myself to quieten.
|Abstract Crossroads (2009)
It’s evident that I am at a crossroads in my life right now. But rather than it becoming a clear-cut 4-way, it seems like a big, jumbled, confusing, frightening mess. That is why I’m having a challenging time communicating it here without seeming like I’m moving in circles onto a roundabout of the non-magical variety.
And since I have a tendency to display a *little * bit of road rage when I drive, I imagine my missing self as one of those annoying men and women who sit at a junction trying to figure out which way they want to go, inducing me (the part of me that simply wants me to figure it out already) to miss the light and sit longer than I’d intended.
Moderate, missing Jayme states:
Take your time, hon. You are grieving the conclusion of the all-consuming procedure you’ve been part of for 4 decades. What you’re feeling is natural. Everything you want to do and how you need to do it’ll come for you. Whatever you want will eventually bubble up to the surface and you’ll find it all out. Do not rush it. What’s your difficulty?? You’ve turned that damn thing in nearly 6 months ago! Life moves on. Get over it. Hurry up! I’ve got places to be and expectations to meet! Decision HONK HONK*
And then I read a post today from Jane Taggart about BlogHer about intimacy and the expense of blogging, inquiring if bloggers have an obligation to their subscribers to regularly post and keep everybody who follows you updated about what is happening. She asks a really fantastic query:
Do we, as bloggers, have some responsibility to our Beautiful Readers? What happens when life or writer’s block or boredom gets in the way and people unexpectedly find ourselves unable to create any kind of publishable articles? Do we give readers an excuse? Would we provide a dear buddy an excuse if we were getting prepared to plunge to the depths of the abyss for weeks at one time? Is it the exact same thing? However,! The minute get a following and we promote ourselves. . .whether that following is 10, 100, or 100,000+. . .we owe something to our subscribers. Something enormous. Something nicely beyond ourselves.
In my effort to become authentic, my readers have constantly had my guarantee that I will always write about the place I’m in my journey. If, for now, my journey was delayed at a rest stop along a street, do you wish to know about it? I question, my dear readers, exactly what portion of my narrative these times that you wish to hear about? (However, I will confess that to me they are boring but you may just say they are not….maybe it is just because I think of it so much more than I write about it now ).
Maybe when I have some thoughts, I can try to meet them somehow find my way backwards in the procedure.
One should always expect.