So, I'm very glad that all of my loyal blogger fans also read my livejournal site. That's sarcasm, by the way, since I asked for a response four days ago, and got zero. So, either no one cares, no one reads it, or no one wanted to "break the response ice". It really doesn't matter, because I do what I want anyway, but it was still heartwarming to find that no one had responded. Not that I should have expected anything. Most of the blogs I try to keep up with are updated so infrequently that I can only think you visit other blogs infrequently as well. March 13, Raph? I mean, do you even consider yourself to have a blog anymore? Are you ever online when you're not doing business email? I don't need to know about your life. But you got me reading your blog entries, even putting you in my list of favorites, and then you forget about it entirely. [sighs]
But no, really, even I have been thinking about how needless blogging has been feeling lately. That compulsion to write about my life just hasn't been there. I'm not sure if it's because I've been spending my time writing other things (as my LJ demonstrates), or if I'm just in the far end of an elliptical orbit around society, feeling little pull from it either in terms of time I spend in it or communication that I give it. Both are probably true. Even this feels totally unnecessary, and only my scruple of never deleting things will cause this post, which began as a mini-complaint that required nothing more than the first 4 sentences, to be published in my blog.
My moment of clarity and blunt honesty: I miss you all a lot, but I get sick of spending time with you, so I'm glad your lives are keeping you busy. I enjoy days when I'm not interrupted, but I wish you'd call anyway. There are really only two compulsions in my life, and neither involves you in any way. One is Grace, and the other is my writing. And they're the compulsions I seem to be fighting against the most. Boy, I'm an idiot, aren't I? I'm going to end this post before I start into stream of consciousness gibberish.
But no, really, even I have been thinking about how needless blogging has been feeling lately. That compulsion to write about my life just hasn't been there. I'm not sure if it's because I've been spending my time writing other things (as my LJ demonstrates), or if I'm just in the far end of an elliptical orbit around society, feeling little pull from it either in terms of time I spend in it or communication that I give it. Both are probably true. Even this feels totally unnecessary, and only my scruple of never deleting things will cause this post, which began as a mini-complaint that required nothing more than the first 4 sentences, to be published in my blog.
My moment of clarity and blunt honesty: I miss you all a lot, but I get sick of spending time with you, so I'm glad your lives are keeping you busy. I enjoy days when I'm not interrupted, but I wish you'd call anyway. There are really only two compulsions in my life, and neither involves you in any way. One is Grace, and the other is my writing. And they're the compulsions I seem to be fighting against the most. Boy, I'm an idiot, aren't I? I'm going to end this post before I start into stream of consciousness gibberish.
posted by Seventh_guest at
1:02 AM
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