The Remorseful Blogger Redux

Ok, so we've been here before; and although I'd like to promise you that it'll never happen again. . . I won't. The truth is it will happen again, many, many times. Sometimes life just sucks all the time and energy away from me, and though I may be vegetating with laptop at the ready. . . blogging is often just one more thing I wish I cared enough about to keep up with. I mean maybe that sounds a touch harsh, or as though I feel it's a chore. So why bother having a blog at all then?  The simple answer is because I can. I want to blog when I'm feeling the persuasion to write and I want to ignore it when life is just too damn hard to deal with as it is. Sometimes it seems the more I have to say the less I post at all.

Since I last posted I could have told you a million things. Posts that never happened could include, my new laptop, craft swapping, craft projects for friends and family, a million derby bout posts, the frikkin Reidell Vixens I recently purchased, the usual work craziness, some silly photo adventures, or even the anxiety that currently consumes . . man-thing's upcoming interview. Which could potentially lead to a better career for him. . . . a move to another city, and of course that would mean I have to start all over again. Find a new job. . . again. I could tell you about my own indecisive struggles, my total inability to decipher the correct path for me at this stage of things. The pervasive feeling that any decision I would make would amount to no better than simply flipping a coin and running with the outcome. Sadly I won't go into details here about most of those things.

I guess a good part of the reasoning behind this is that while my blog is fairly random and largely ignored (unless I have made a recent Craftster post)  I know that there is at least one person who is something of a secret voyeur of these posts. Never commenting here or in real life, but nevertheless reading anyway. Following my online doings in a shadowy fringe way. This doesn't upset me or make me angry at all. It simply prevents me from giving full disclosure of my life and the events that are transpiring. It shouldn't . . . and I know that best of all; but the fact remains that it does.

Anyway, I installed the Blog This! button tonight and I'm planning on making use of it in the coming weeks. It's my goal to get back in the habit and maybe even a new template is in order. For now I leave you with this:

There’s a reason I said I’d be happy alone.

It wasn’t cause I thought I’d be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it.

It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn you need love and then you don’t have it? What if you like it and lean on it?

What if you shape your life around it, and then it falls apart?

Can we even survive that kind of pain?

Losing love is like organ damage.

It’s like dying.

The only difference is death ends.

This?

It could go on forever.

Grey’s Anatomy – S 7 E 22 – “Unaccompanied Minor”