Thursday, December 31
It's as good a time as any, this eve of a New Year, what with resolutions, new starts, and all that. So I'm figuring....what the hey, get back up on the horse and ride off into the sunset...or maybe the sunrise, since it's already dark and the sunrise will officially be that new year full of promise and resolutions and great plans and unforeseen adventures. Whatever. I'm back.
As you may notice, I have even gone so far as to sign up for Nablopomo, that little devil on my shoulder that keeps me going. I know, I know, I shouldn't be so dependent on external motivation, I should write if I want to write and not if I don't, adoring fans be damned (of course, I don't mean you), not that I don't appreciate adoring fans, 'cause man I really do, but even in my really-doing, it doesn't get me to write.
You may wonder why I left, why I've stayed away, what happened, was it the proverbial writer's block, did someone piss me off, did someone scare me, did I really have nothing to say for five months (fat chance), blah de blah. Yup.
It's been an interesting time. Every time I sat down to write, and believe me, I did, especially when thinking of my fellow bloggers with whom I had forged such warm connections, I was stuck. I was mostly stuck because, as irreverent and goofy and irrelevant as this blog may sometimes be, it's really never been about anything but the truth. My truth, that is.
Hot tip: If you are a new reader, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck when you read those words "my truth", and you're pawing your hoof in the dirt getting ready to leave me a comment about relativism and how morality is absolute, let me just say more power to you, but just fair warning, this blog is gonna piss you off pretty much every day. If you're into that, by all means feel free to stick around. Just don't say nobody warned you, k?
And the truth, at least for the past several months (I can hear you saying, Robin, you don't have to explain yourself, but I feel like I do, in the same way that it's difficult to come back when you've run away from home (not that I've ever thought of running away from home, oh, no, that doesn't sound like me at all) or re-enter a room when you have just vanished for an indeterminate amount of time. Come to think of it, that's one of the things that is most annoying to me, that has been the death of me (and some relationships)...that is, people who renew relationships and conversations as if a breach one of sort or another has not occurred. That bugs me. In the spirit of integrity, then, I feel like I gotta say. Okay?
Which is not to say that I wasn't dying to write about a gazillion things that happened, because as you know by now, there's a lot of things that I don't get. Don't think I didn't want to rant about that new hand dryer they have now at Target (and elsewhere, I'm sure) that offers you the oh-so-special reminder of our mortality (which is something you definitely want to do while in the bathroom) by blowing all that skin around that you coulda swore was attached, but you now realize otherwise. I might still write about that in the coming days, so go try it out if you haven't yet, 'cause I love them comments, they're infusions, keep 'em comin. And don't tell me you won't have something to say about them. That's just impossible.
But here's the thing. There was something in this time span that just wouldn't allow it. When my fingers get going, they pretty much say what they want to say, and as any of you who are writers know, those digits have a little independent connection of their own to the mind and heart, which is a good thing, a fine thing for journals, but not quite as swell in blogs, at least in my view.
I sat down to write. I did. And then I heard it.