The Outhouse of Plans
As has become almost routine since my blogging began to thin out around two summers ago--and at times evaporate altogether --Frank Paynter throws out a hook and reels me back in, even if for just a post or two.
The steady scribe of Listics nee Sandhill has done it again. He must have known that I would be irresistably touched when, right there in the middle of blogging about being with all those brilliant babes of Bloggerland--i.e., the recently concluded BlogHer conference--he tosses out a mention that he's thinking about what may have become of me!
One presumes he was there to provide a male perspective on the proceedings--and I don't mean that in the lecherous sense. He had the good sense to have his wife with him, after all. Which may be how he managed to get in there in the first place--unless they actually invited him--just kidding--they did let guys in and there were in fact other guys there, although a distinct minority.
I've always had a bit of fun kidding around with Frank, even arguing sometimes, but I'll not begrudge him his accolades. He's one helluva prodigious blogger, and I'm honored to be the recipient of his attention from time to time.
I owe my readers a big apology for disappearing right on the heels of announcing my return six months ago. I was very excited about getting back, having just pulled off a neat little end run around the Grim Reaper. I was full of plans and good ideas. Twenty-two awesome bloggers left encouraging comments. Others emailed. It was an experience to savor.
I thought the Author-In-Chief was going to cut me some slack after my heart scare. Ha! My Year-of-Job was just warming up. What's the old saying--if you want to hear God laugh, make a plan? I joined Rumsfeld, Bremer, Wolfowitz et al in the outhouse of plans-gone-south.
No sooner did I return from a round of business consultations, all fired up and ready to get moving again, than I was struck by an even more painful experience than the preceding one--a devastating situation of turmoil and upheaval in my family (nothing to do with my marriage, which is just fine, thank you very much).
It would have been very helpful if I could have blogged my heart out about it. However, I've been honor-bound to to remain silent about the details of this in the public arena in order to protect the privacy rights of people who are very special to me.
My sincere regrets for having to be in mystery on this, but that's just the way it is. Period. Nothing I can do about it. I wouldn't even bring it up except that the irreducible foundation of personal blogging, IMO, is honesty and transparency.
Without this foundation, I have no reason to blog. This standard requires, therefore, that I explain, to the extent possible, why I suddenly stopped blogging right on the heels of trumpeting my return.
During this tumultous period, which has been full of fear, despair, and uncertainty, the happy memories of blogging proved too painful for me to deal with. That may sound nuts. You would think that it would provide a nice respite. But, it just hasn't seemed to work that way for me.
It's not that I want to grovel in my shit. It's more that blogging has seemed so insignificant in the face of all this--the lack of its former electricity for me has been an unpleasant source of sadness--and I've been assiduously avoiding all sources of sadness over which I have any control.
Things are improving, so Frank's timing is propitious. I just might be ready to give it a go again. No promises, mind you, but I'll do my best to give it another shot.
Six months is a stupidly long time to wait to say this--but a belated Thank You, nonetheless, to all you wonderful bloggers who reached out to me back in January.
As has become almost routine since my blogging began to thin out around two summers ago--and at times evaporate altogether --Frank Paynter throws out a hook and reels me back in, even if for just a post or two.
The steady scribe of Listics nee Sandhill has done it again. He must have known that I would be irresistably touched when, right there in the middle of blogging about being with all those brilliant babes of Bloggerland--i.e., the recently concluded BlogHer conference--he tosses out a mention that he's thinking about what may have become of me!
One presumes he was there to provide a male perspective on the proceedings--and I don't mean that in the lecherous sense. He had the good sense to have his wife with him, after all. Which may be how he managed to get in there in the first place--unless they actually invited him--just kidding--they did let guys in and there were in fact other guys there, although a distinct minority.
I've always had a bit of fun kidding around with Frank, even arguing sometimes, but I'll not begrudge him his accolades. He's one helluva prodigious blogger, and I'm honored to be the recipient of his attention from time to time.
I owe my readers a big apology for disappearing right on the heels of announcing my return six months ago. I was very excited about getting back, having just pulled off a neat little end run around the Grim Reaper. I was full of plans and good ideas. Twenty-two awesome bloggers left encouraging comments. Others emailed. It was an experience to savor.
I thought the Author-In-Chief was going to cut me some slack after my heart scare. Ha! My Year-of-Job was just warming up. What's the old saying--if you want to hear God laugh, make a plan? I joined Rumsfeld, Bremer, Wolfowitz et al in the outhouse of plans-gone-south.
No sooner did I return from a round of business consultations, all fired up and ready to get moving again, than I was struck by an even more painful experience than the preceding one--a devastating situation of turmoil and upheaval in my family (nothing to do with my marriage, which is just fine, thank you very much).
It would have been very helpful if I could have blogged my heart out about it. However, I've been honor-bound to to remain silent about the details of this in the public arena in order to protect the privacy rights of people who are very special to me.
My sincere regrets for having to be in mystery on this, but that's just the way it is. Period. Nothing I can do about it. I wouldn't even bring it up except that the irreducible foundation of personal blogging, IMO, is honesty and transparency.
Without this foundation, I have no reason to blog. This standard requires, therefore, that I explain, to the extent possible, why I suddenly stopped blogging right on the heels of trumpeting my return.
During this tumultous period, which has been full of fear, despair, and uncertainty, the happy memories of blogging proved too painful for me to deal with. That may sound nuts. You would think that it would provide a nice respite. But, it just hasn't seemed to work that way for me.
It's not that I want to grovel in my shit. It's more that blogging has seemed so insignificant in the face of all this--the lack of its former electricity for me has been an unpleasant source of sadness--and I've been assiduously avoiding all sources of sadness over which I have any control.
Things are improving, so Frank's timing is propitious. I just might be ready to give it a go again. No promises, mind you, but I'll do my best to give it another shot.
Six months is a stupidly long time to wait to say this--but a belated Thank You, nonetheless, to all you wonderful bloggers who reached out to me back in January.
6 Comments:
keep these posts coming please... I want to argue with you about war and peace, but you need to get warmed up first.
By
fpaynter, at 5:57 PM
What do you mean, "warmed up," Frank? I'm steamed--as I know you are. Where's the argument?
I hate GM cars, love Toyota--so no divide there.
Your commentaries are usually brilliant, so can't attack you there.
Love Wisconsin and Oregon.
Well, if I keep looking, maybe something will emerge.
By
Tom Shugart, at 7:54 PM
Since I stopped warring with Rage Boy, I haven't been stirred to fight with anyone. Except my brother, of course. And I can't imagine disagreeing with you two on any topic. (I shouldn't speak too soon!) So, Tom, you go, guy. Glad to see you're back and already warmed up.
By
Gray Lady, at 9:06 PM
amen! talkabout whatever you want and don't about whatever you want. it's not like the old days. no one pays attention anyway anymore (HEE!) Well, cept frank. ;-)
keep on, Tom. Writing is therapeutic even without blatent details. write about the grass, write about frank's ass. whatever. cool with us. (well, maybe not the frank's ass thing. okay if you must.)
By
Social Director of the Internet, at 10:44 PM
Not to worry, Jeneane. I think I'll take a pass on the Frank's posterior suggestion. Those Georgia summers must be rotting your brain cells.
By
Tom Shugart, at 9:31 AM
Oregon is Idaho's Portugal. Steven Colbert taught me that. Must update Wikipedia.
Found this great open tracker thingee. Still has a few kinks in it. Nancy White linked me through it, I was combing my traffic logs and found the link. The rest is typical fumbling around. Try it if you use Firefox. Might add a soupcon of sumthin to your by now jaded web surfing 'sperience.
http://www.convotracker.com/listurls.php
By
fpaynter, at 8:10 PM
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