You might not guess it from the looks of my neglected blog, but I have been doing some writing lately. Most of it is ending up on my flash drive instead of here.
I feel like one of the minor, enduring struggles of my life has been realizing that it’s a beautiful day outside, yet preferring to stay inside and read a book or write in my notebook while wearing pajamas and eating potato chips. Today I justified my indoor actions by telling myself it’d still be light out when I’d have to leave the apartment to go work, so I needn’t feel obligated to leave before then. I also looked at the weather report and found that tomorrow will also be warm and nice and I can take advantage of it then–unless I find myself in a similar mood. You know those moods? For me it’s like my inner world feels so interesting and stimulating that why bother interacting with someone else at the moment? Or this character in the book is in the middle of a really big ordeal, and my couch is really comfortable, why risk not finding a good reading spot in a cafe or park?
So, that’s what I found myself in this afternoon. And I worked on some of my flash drive stuff. But I think about my blog a lot. It’s not exactly like a child. It’s more like a Tamagachi pet or even a Chia pet. I know I can go a reasonable amount of time away from it and still nurse it back to health and restore its faith in me. But I also know how easy it is to leave it on a shelf for a few weeks. Maybe those are bad comparisons. I don’t think of my blog as a fad I’ll eventually grow tired of, throw in a box in the basement, then drag out for annual tag sales, only then to remember all the great times I shared with it when some bratty neighborhood kid offers me a quarter to take it home with them–never to love or care for it as I did.
Yeah. My blog is something else. It’s a tool and an outlet and a companion. And it’s me.
I didn’t mean to share any of that. I meant to share the first couple paragraphs of something I’ve been working on. So here that is. Thanks for reading this blog. Thanks for contributing to the life of my figurative Tamagachi Chia pet thing.
Some people are able to announce, with grandiosity: I was born moments after the first man walked on the moon; Or, on the day Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat; In the wake of a magnitude 6.5 earthquake. They imply these events prefaced and even foreshadowed the lives they went on to lead and the kind of people they grew to be—inevitably great and impactful.
Myself, I was born shortly after my parents watched Caddyshack, including the scene in which Bill Murray’s character eats a candy bar others mistake for feces floating in a pool. I like to think that in being exposed to this film I recognized that the world could be a funny place, and that though the womb was warm and safe, I didn’t mind venturing some place new.