At one point, I used to blog daily. link Sometimes it was hard to come up with what to say, and in general, the whole process always took twice or sometimes three times as long as I expected it to.
But these days with this new blog space, I feel this weight of a responsibility to what B L O G has come to mean. It has such potential, which is at once thrilling and altogether intimidating. Am I right?
The difference between the work that I was thinking and writing about before vs. now is not fundamentally different. I hope that it’s improved more than a little bit, and I hope that that will forever be the case. The living circumstances were notably different, though.
Before, I shared an apartment with my sister, which was swell. Once you get out all the kinks and bumps of having grown up together, you’re left with the advantage that you’ve grown up together. I knew not to talk to her in the morning. She knew not to ask too many questions when it was clear I didn’t know what I was doing. And so on. We lived within a sphere of respected mutual quiet time, where I often had meals alone, when grocery shopping solo, and had plenty of time for yoga, painting, and introspection. I blogged.
I can hear you chuckling already.
I think what happened next meayhave happened to you too.
So here I am, 4 years and three kids later, a literal world away (we now live in Peru), and it’s not as if I don’t have a million things to share and say. Like for instance at this moment my 3 year old is a zombie tiger eating my face while I type. These are the things that I strangely take for granted more than I even realize. Dancing tiger zombie that has now fallen off the couch. (Don’t worry, I picked her up before recording her fall.) But you get my point. Life is changed… in a drastic, meaningfully different kind of way. And I do not create the space in my day or even my week to consider my BLOG.
But I think I might want to.
Not because I imagine there are those few, dear readers who crave the meaning of something nestled in the depths of my mind. I seriously doubt that.
It’s mostly for the quiet time. It’s catharsis. It’s rolling thoughts into coherent ideas. And THIS is the thing that I do not have the luxury of as much as I need to feel like my best human self.
I still don’t know what I will write about. But I have a good feeling that it might be something worth my time. I suppose we shall altogether wait and see.