Birdie: I was glad to see your comment about the breathlessness, because the other night I tweeted about mine while watching the Golden Globes and a friend responded that it sounded like a coronary issue. Scared the bejesus out of me!
For all the years I’ve been blogging, I don’t think there are really a lot of readers here. Not if you believe the IT guys who tell you that 75% of those showing up in your stats are actually bots, or if you judge by the number of comments following an entry. I do have my faithful regulars, old friends by now — most of you — which does suggest there is actually someone interested in what I write, plainjane as it is when life isn’t a rollercoaster or a drama (and when it is, I censor myself). What baffles me more is who doesn’t check in from time to time … I’d expect my close friends to, and family members … but that’s not always the case.
They have their reasons, of course: some are on the computer all day at work and avoid it during their leisure time; some are in close touch with me and already know what’s happening around here; some are people who don’t read anything but Facebook, to start with; there are only so many hours in a day; all perfectly sensible, except only reading Facebook (a poor choice of material if ever there was one; even the back of a cereal box is more enlightening and valuable than FB. It’s an excellent connection/communication tool at times and that’s why I don’t delete my account, but in my experience it’s worth keeping about 5% of the time).
I’ve been a letter-writer and journal-keeper for so long that not writing isn’t an option for me. It’s an urge that has to be satisfied, even when there’s nothing to say. There are lots of days like that. I sit here and start anyway, and hope something comes. Usually early in each year I ask: Is there anything you’d like to see more of, here? Anything you’d like me to write about more often? Any questions you have? Anything that would make this blog more compelling to visit? Help me out here, wouldja? Because sometimes I’m alittle embarrassed about the content of this blog, it being so unworldly and all. Shouldn’t I be writing essays, articles, columns, novels? Telling stories, inspiring people, instead of just writing an endless letter, wasting my time and yours with unimportant drivel? These are a few of the thoughts that wing past, some days. Maybe they come from low self-esteem, or from not accepting myself as I am, although if you know me in person you might agree that these don’t seem to be my challenges in this life, unless I hide them well.
What are my challenges?
* lack of stick-to-it-iveness in my personal life; I don’t keep up healthy or desirable routines that I think I want or need but apparently don’t very badly
* lack of ambition; I have few material needs and am content with things as they are. Paint the bathroom? Yeah maybe someday but I’ll forget all about it by tomorrow, if not sooner.
Well, enough about me. What about you? I’m already tired of myself today.