Once upon a time I used to write blogs. what is a blog anyway? well, I have forgotten or maybe no one really knows. But I do know that it requires a certain desire to make your thoughts public, which I have not had lately. I must be regaining this desire as I type or I will be contradicting myself with every key stroke. I just misspelled stroke but you cannot see that because I reversed time and retyped it, then let time run normally after that.
What I've done with my sabbatical from blogging: thought about the blogs I'd like to write whenever I get around to it and feel inspired enough and articulate enough, painted, moved in to my own place, saved money on my car insurance (boring), bicycled, water colored, wasted vast amounts of time on facebook, stared at walls, I'm sure I've read at least one book, learned more about God, drove through the end of a rainbow, visited a shooting range, became an official card-carrying member of netflix, got more sleep (as I usually start blogging around the time I should be going to bed), asked myself a million times what I'm supposed to do with my life and many other questions I'd rather not repeat. I've probably done a lot more, but I can't remember what I've done because I haven't made little notes about it online to review periodically. In fact, I know I've done a lot more, or at least I know I have lots of comments and thoughts about the few things I did and/or didn't experience this summer. I have a long list of shoulds always floating around in my head. It becomes overwhelming to consider them all.
The whole blogging thing felt (feels?) futile. Everyone has a blog. Everyone writes at length about random stuff. Does the blogosphere really need another blogger? Especially one that made up a silly title that doesn't mean anything in particular?
Anyway - I'm starting to miss writing my silly blogs. If a blog is posted in the blogosphere and no one reads it, does it exist? I read it, so it exists. But what's the point of its existence? Oh I don't know...
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