Rotting on the Inside, Part II
See these gourds? Pretty, don’t you think? They’re quite possibly delicious. They’re even a bit decorative. The most remotely interesting thing about them is that they’ve been sitting on my kitchen table since my last blog post, 72 days ago.
Such is the case with my stagnant blogging mojo. I don’t know why I’m having difficulty keeping a blog. That’s not true. It’s a widely-known fact I’m rather lazy. And easily distracted by shiny things and all manner of pork. But it wasn’t just the lazy. Rather than seeing this as an exercise in creative expression, emotional release, or exhibitionist experimentation, I kept seeing it as a vanity project, playing to an audience, or rather a place to hide from the world, rather than a quiet and personal (only due to my anonymity) place to document the many things that make me wonder, laugh, or question.
I decided to test myself. For a set amount of time, I wouldn’t blog, and I would challenge myself to interact with the world. I do enjoy real, live people. Sometimes. I have been trying new things, challenging myself to do more, see more, and such. It’s all fine and good.
But I also miss this place, where I put myself out there (albeit anonymously, and therefore safely), and explore other people’s weird, droll, and often disturbing lives…without having to get off the couch. If only I had used a different system to time my sojourn.
You see, I told myself that I could go back to blogging when the gourds started to go bad. Wouldn’t you know it, for the past month and a half, the little fuckers just wouldn’t die.
But today. Today is a good day. Like me, the gourds are not yet the squishy mass of rotting flesh I’d hoped they’d be a month ago. But they are developing a subtle odor. And that is good enough for me.