I’m sorry, am I late? Sometimes I lose track of time…
In all seriousness, I do apologize for the hiatus. It was semi-intentional; the busiest week I have is Memorial Day Weekend, and has been pretty much for the last ten years. This year was particularly heinous, and by Monday, when the thought came “Gray, you should post a blog,” the response was a pretty-much instantaneous “No.”
I needed a break. For a few reasons:
- I needed, for a few days, fewer responsibilities, even from myself;
- I needed to evaluate if I was just blathering on or if I was saying anything here of value or substance;
- I needed to discover if I would miss writing; and,
- I was idly curious if anyone would notice.
The results were, in order: a particularly giddy sense of freedom, undetermined, yes, and yes. Interesting point on the last one, though: while apparently many people noticed, hardly anyone said anything. Two text messages, one oblique, one direct, and one person who, when I said “I’m taking a break from the blog, not sure if anyone will notice,” looked at me and said “I’ve noticed.”
With a non-judgmental smile, because she’s like that. But I was surprised at the effects of the break. It’s true, life is easier when you’re not writing three days a week on constrained topics (if “life” can be considered constrained). It’s also true that now, as I type these words, I feel a sense of rightness and this is what I do.
The question is, am I doing it right?
So I ask you, dear readers, what have been my posts that you’ve found most or (let’s not presume) least helpful and/or entertaining? Personally my favorite is “The Keeper of Lost Things.” If you can’t think of a particular title, vague references will also help; one reader told me she enjoys the posts where I have data to support research and logical conclusions (sorry, this isn’t one of those posts). If, on the other hand, you like the armchair ramblings of a nascent Grandpa, let me know.
Basically, I want to keep writing, but I want this blog to reflect value and a purpose, not just making something up because it happens to be Monday. In a sense, it’s like a microcosm for life, I suppose: you reach a point where rather than just going day-to-day you want it all to lead in some particular direction.
You can only wander so long before you eventually end up somewhere.