A month on, a month off. If you're reading this, thank you for checking back in. I just needed some time to consider where blogging fits into my life. I'm still considering . . .
I remember when, shortly after I began blogging, I put up a post which said, essentially, if you're reading this, please comment. At that time, I had a statcounter -- it was a temporary statcounter, I wouldn't even know now how to access it if I tried. But on that particular day, I tracked the statcounter, and the next day, my post was something akin to, "Hey, I checked my statcounter, and more people are reading than are commenting. What gives?!" For some reason, my feelings were hurt. I think we (who blog) all go through that: our 'blog-esteem' depends on number of comments. It's crazy, but it's a reality -- and what a waste! See, somehow, that was insulting to me -- insulting! Can you imagine?! It spilled over into my real life, and . . . yuck! How embarrassing that I'm even owning up to this: that I felt unworthy, unwanted because of a lack of comments on a webpage. Yikes. But on that second post, where I express my frustration at lack of comments, my friend Gracie J. Brunswick replied: Just who are you writing for, anyway? How interesting that she would ask such a thing -- it was just what I needed to hear/read, and I've thought about that comment ever since. What, or who, are we writing for? Also, what are we reading for?
In the past few weeks, I've considered that as I've not blogged, not read too many other blogs, and just considered my own life in general. I won't detail that ongoing search here, but I will tell you what you can expect from me, here, in this forum: stories from my life. Rants. Raves. My opinions. My questions. My complaints (which I too often worry show up only on my blog, casting me as the eternal pessimist, but hey -- this is a good place for me to let it out). Occassional photos. Most of all: MY TRUTH. It's me, and it's real, and I can't explain how okay I am with it all.
See ya real soon.