I’ve been looking for something to pull me out of my stupor. My wife is royally pissed at me for not blogging. My readership has probably given up on me. But these negatives haven’t been enough to slap me back into blogging consciousness.
I have no idea what happened. All I know is that I woke up one morning about two weeks ago and something snapped. An impenetrable wall came down between me and my desire or ability to blog.
The convenient excuse is that there are too many pressing matters in my personal life of greater urgency. Well, I’ve been through that before--but I’ve still managed to squeeze in some blogging here and there. This excuse may be handy, but it won’t fly.
No, it’s been some vague sort of conclusion that I seem to have made—a judgment that says I can no longer afford the drain on my consciousness that blogging seems to require. But guess what? The quiet dissatisfaction of not blogging is a drain of equal force.
So as I oscillate between should blog/shouldn’t blog along comes the Crone in fire-breathing mode. “I’m warning you,” her email begins—the subject line of which is “Get writing!!” Subtlety is clearly not a Crone-ish trait.
I’m speaking of course of Elaine of Kalilily, Self-Proclaimed Resident Crone of Blogdom. The lady doesn’t mince words—and, boy, is she what I needed. You don’t mess with Crones! Seems that she’s been interviewed by a Chicago Tribune reporter who’s doing an article on women and blogging, and Elaine mentioned my blog as one of her favorites.
The implication is clear. Elaine is not going to stand for plugging a blogger who’s not blogging. How could I live with embarrassing her with the good readers of the venerable Chicago Tribune? Whatever personal shit I’m swimming in at the moment, I’m just going to have to find a way through it. When the Crone says “I’m warning you!” it’s as scary as my old first sergeant bellowing, “I’m warning you, you’ve got one foot in the stockade and the other on a banana peel!”
Fortunately, Elaine’s warning came through just one day before I’m leaving on a cross-country outing with my son. Unfortunately, I’ll be away from computers for eight or nine days. If any Tribune readers check in during that period they’ll just have to wait for my return. Or they can check my archives.
In either case, Elaine, I promise you, they’ll have something to read when I get back. You’ve brought me to my senses. After going through the not insignificant effort of attempting to develop a “voice” on these pages, why would I want to abandon that—and piss you and my wife off in the process?