For a year or more, I have lived with the intention of bringing back this blog. Since I was sincere, I penned a lot of “posts” that never got off the paper. These were usually scribbled out longhand during my lunch hour. I have a large box of folded sheets of paper with blurted thoughts meant to erupt here eventually.
I’ve been randomly dipping into that box lately, trying to separate the wheat from the chaff. Today I pulled out a doozy. The following was formatted semi-poetically on the page, so I’ll reproduce it as I see it. The really funny thing is I have absolutely no recollection of writing it. I love when that happens.
So here, from who knows how many months ago, my blog angst spilled out over a turkey club sandwich:
Confessions/Sixes & Sevens
Or: What’s the deal w/the blog?
I want it.
I don’t want to do it.
I write too much.
It seems I have nothing to say.
Audience is gone.
Such as it was, it’s still out there.
If I say I’m gonna do it, that’s commitment,
which leads to accountability.
Is that why I don’t do it?
Afraid to commit?
Afraid to be held accountable?
The days fly by too quickly.
If I wait until there’s time, it might be too late.
I miss my dog.