I've missed my time here, but life itself has been happening and I should consider that both a blessing and curse. It would seem that when things get boring in the world of Everyday, I come here to write about observations, but when life takes a toll, I can't quite find the words or tone to inject anything of meaning.
Who cares about my little dramas? Two things occur to me. One is that nothing I write about is of consequence, but the second thought is that everything in my life is this... and therefore of little consequence. This kind of thinking can lead to a bout of whiny depression if I let it, but seriously, my ego's not that big.
Besides, this blog was started for me. I've got three others, but none have this voice. This is my rant and sarcasm space, but I do have to learn to fill it during times when I'm humbled and don't have much piss and vinegar.
I can relate. I seem to have plenty to write when I'm not doing anything with my life but now, living temporarily in a foreign country, working a new job, meeting new people, experiencing new things every day, I can't seem to put pen to paper... or fingers to keys as the case may be.
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