I need to figure out what this blog is about.
I am writing it everyday, which is now up to, what? some 70 days in a row? But it still hasn’t found its niche or its voice yet.
I feel like a puppeteer. I can give voices to different parts of my personality. I have an earnest self and a snarky self and and a silly self and a funny self.
I get into moods. Like yesterday. I was screaming at the world from the car. G and I were driving to Lowes and I screamed at Wayne’s house that he should finish the electrical job already!
I screamed at stupid drivers. I screamed at a guy using a hose to sweep dirt off his driveway instead of a broom. “We’re in drought, you asshole!!”
I screamed at the frackers for sucking all the water out of the aquifers so now we’re in a drought. I get into these screamy days.
Then I have my stoic days. Then I have my “It is the way it is” days.
Then I have my “Everything is absurd but funny” days. Then I have my “Everything is absurd and I want to kill myself —and you“ days.
Then I have my “How the hell can I live in this place?” days. Then I have my “Life is good and I love everything and everybody” days.
Then I have my “I am wasting my one wild and precious life” days. Then I have my “I am doing good work in the world” days.
I have my “Healthy food is the key to happiness” days. Then I have my “It’s okay to eat gelato for lunch” days.
And in among all this I decide that blogging is a good idea, but that this blog has to have some consistency and some predictability, but I am neither all that consistent nor predictable.
I get depressed when I go back and read my archives from 2009 and 2010. I think: You were a MUCH better writer back then, Kath. What happened? Are you losing it? Are you getting boring because your life is so…what? Comfy?
I wonder if I need things to shake up a little. But then I think: A shaken life isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.
So I don’t know. I don’t really know what my mood is today. I am happy that it is May that’s for sure. Currently the sky is blue and the temperature is 81. That’s what I’m talking about people. That’s what I’m talking about.
There is a nice strip of sun on the deck calling my name. I need to get my shorts on and sit in it for awhile.
And read Resilience.