the neglected
i always thought i’d have the gumption to keep this blog going. during the slow days at work, what a perfect time to pull up ye olde textpattern and write something. anything. or with the advent and subsequent advancement of smartphones, surely i could capture a decent photo to publish here on a semi-regular basis. right? the truth is i’m just not interested it anymore. yet at the same time i continue to be captivated by the internet and its abilities to keep certain topics and people at the forefront. but i’ll never be one of them.
i have my primary haunts here on the interwebs. but i think i’m suffering from technology ADD. i check everything often, get discouraged when it’s the same ol’ crap, yet don’t contribute anything of my own. but then again, why should that be the goal? why clutter the already oversaturated online environment? i’m certain i’ve pontificated on this here blog on that exact topic—everyone has something to say, and everyone demands to be heard. but how is my story any more captivating than the next person’s?
when my dad died last year, this was the necessary platform to purge my feelings. i needed catharsis as did some of my family. in retrospect it seems fitting that i was the person to do the writing, the reflecting, the analyzing. i’m told that my words, particularly those about my father’s final moments, set off a trail of tears. that wasn’t my intention, naturally. i was just writing from the heart, something i’ve tried to inject in every posting, no matter how brief or mundane.
as i scribed more than a dozen entries dedicated to dad’s life and death, i set out on this expedition of sorts to let my limited readership know what one does with grief. well, we continue to live. i still have my own life to attend to. my husband. my work. my animals. my self-assigned projects. they all need me. and i continue to give myself to them while harboring a small tinge of sadness. some days are understandably harder than others. and though it hasn’t been a year yet, today i can say the hurt isn’t as prevalent; however, i still think of my father every.single.day. and sometimes still, i tear up at one simple fleeting moment that reminds me of him.
i’ve never had a big following here, but i felt i gained a little bit of traction, albeit short-lived, with those particular posts. since then, though, i’ve lost my voice. my brain still reels with the everyday onslaught of news coverage on politics, war, economic and environmental issues, the younger generations faced with tough times ahead. couple all that with the lesser intense, yet just as important, topics of family, crafting, exercising, food that embody my daily life, and you’d think i’d have fodder to keep this site populated with a regular stream of somewhat entertaining entries. but i simply can’t. i actually feel like reclaiming some of the personal nature of my writing and doing it just for me (despite already admitting to a small audience in the first place).
having said all that, i’m not jumping ship completely. like i said, i still have occupancy in various places on the interwebs and will continue to inhabit them. and as i alluded to in my last post, other projects with new interests are in the works. just because i’m not writing doesn’t mean cool stuff ain’t a-happenin’. i’m just too busy living life some days to document it. and there’s no online law prohibiting the return to a once-abandoned endeavor. just ask my husband. :)
i will always love writing, just as i will always love photography. and just like what happened with my photographic eye, my writing is taking a backseat to other things. i feel comfortable saying i am not passionate about one thing. my passion is actually the hunt for new ones, something i undoubtedly inherited from my father.