I worry when I write. Not overly yet a bit. I re-read. edit and re-read at a later date looking for faux pas. I do not want my writing to be word-perfect and I try to keep the language simple – so that I can understand – enough. I want it to be understood in each breath taken at the right place; according to punctuation not the readers individual oxygen requirement. OK that’s a joke but the truest things are said in jest.
The above is taken from a comment that I left for Papa Angst. I wrote that this is how my blog will start today.
I hope that you and he will understand that although most of it comes from my turmoil within; it is inspired by his blog and you.
Keith Wayne Brown’s comment on Digging your way out of the pit of despair written by clotildajamcracker. Questions posed about keeping contact with people written by Attila Ovari that I would like to respond to. That’s the second, no wait, the fourth post by Attila Ovari that inspires response by me. Two outstanding from vodkawasmymuse aka WordsFallFromMyEyes and I find that in mere days ‘the authors have deleted this blog’!
It hits me like being dumped.
Like being removed from my (EX) girlfriend’s FaceBook page during passed arguments. There was so much content. So much of this woman that she had shared. Is it possible that this deletion is like a FaceBook page, merely hidden from others whilst some inner care is taken? A spring clean for Christmas and she’ll be back? (The blog, not the EX. Please NOT the EX :-D)
It opens a whole can of wriggling worms that I was not aware could still touch me. Separation and Loss theory would say that I am likely to suffer an inability to form deeper relationships because my line of significant attachments has changed too frequently.
OK, seriously WordsFallFromMyEyes, don’t take that personally or too seriously. Wait, didn’t I start this sentence, ‘Seriously..’
This is not a deprivation reaction. There is certainly an amount of attachment. Attachment, as my blog page indicates, to a desire of communicating with others. A dream of an ideal world where all communicate openly for the better of others.
In trying to keep up with each of your posts, I’m being taken on a tram to tangent land. Being taken yes. I am passive and it is happening to me. Though I cam here looking for the lost lands. I wholly accept my part as the explorer of them.
Discovering new blogs, delving in, dipping out. Out of a blog and on to another page. A definition and further exploration of something that I’ve read. A word, a term, a small revision of things that I should know- An attempt to understand the intricacies of ice hockey, a photo (Time for Beauty) sent by email.
Many more, so many tangents of interest and general education abound on the internet. I am not naive. I do not trust it all.
For any of you who haven’t clicked on the WordsFallFromMyEyes link and found something worth reading, feel free to. There, in my inbox I found a mail explaining the close of the site for the progress of the book. Progress, hmm.. now there’s a concept.
As I trawl through, every day, most of my day it seems: sorting emails to read later, react to later. Am I a responder? Is my commenting on others thoughts of real benefit? To them? To me? To you?
Yet I am the person believing in open conversation, in exchange of ideas and opinion creating a better balanced, more involved society.
Time management is repeatedly knocking it’s pace stick on the back of my head. There is a lack of rhythm to my march. Rhythm? Organised, Uniformed, steady and rhythmic walking forward. A progressive direction. I’m still on a spidergraph path.
Today I should have finished a mammoth task. The setting out of my last two years. A catch up post for friends that ask me, what’s happening, how come you are in Switzerland and such-like questions.
I keep delaying them by saying that I’ll write it. It will be easier. For both of us, for us all. I have hardly started and my notification of this post will arrive with them sending false hope?
I hope that they, that you, reading this will relate.
That your inner response is, yep, that’s life.
Even when you’ve got nothing on, no agenda, no work to do. Hell, no job..!
Still, things pop up into the path I’m busily weeding. A small bush becomes a massive excavation task. (metaphorically speaking as I do not have a garden to tend).
Somehow four hours have past. Much more needs to happen and this post has not been passed. It is not the finish line.
But I’ve started. At a post seemingly centuries back, if we measure distance in time. I think that I’m approaching a fourth lap even though I’ve tried to get away from the course. Maybe this is fifth time around?
There is always something that I didn’t yet see on that same stretch of road.
There are always so many other paths to take.