A few confessions. Over the past few weeks you may have noticed a few things.
1. this blog is boring.
2. if it wasn’t boring before, oh, it is really boring now
3. whatever happened to ‘war and peace?’
4. there was a week you skipped altogether…
5. also, a friday post?
5. no, 6. but, did you say something? i haven’t been listening for a long, long time.
For what it’s worth, I hear you. You are right. I hope no one has been reading this blog over the past few weeks. I hope you are happy and well, and haven’t noticed, honestly. Upon much reflection, I’ve only recently put my finger on the pulse. This is what I’ve found.
1. I am depressed
2. Unfortunately I’m not clinically depressed, not maniacally so. It’s more of a dull, defeated sort of feeling. A long, gasping, “meh.” And, it doesn’t last very long. Eventually something makes me laugh, and then I’ll remember how much I like laughing, and then I’ll think of Paul Rudd, which will make me blush.
3. So I have been up, I have been down. But mostly, I’ve been having a hard time separating myself from my own loudness. My nature takes over. I begin plotting my escape. The Woods. A hut. Falcon. I refuse to blog.
4. Of course, I’m not blaming you. Or maybe I am, a little. Because I care about what you think. I care about what everyone thinks. I wonder, “What do I have to be to impress you the most?”
5. It’s funny. I’ve never once wondered what anyone else is doing to impress me.
6. Which brings us back to Paul Rudd.
7. And this picture:
I think that, because you’ve been so patient, so kind, that there is a you physically reading this, I’d like to hug you sometime, kiss you sometime. I’d like to say, thank you. For you, I would like to commit to writing again this week, maybe even more than once. On a Saturday, maybe. A Monday. I’d like to show you something sweet.
Thanks for dealing with my moodiness. You know, it’s that diva Mariah Carey in me…