I Can Take A Hint

"Age wrinkles the body.  Quitting wrinkles the soul."

Yeah.  That's what I said.  I can take a hint.

Now, I'm not saying that when I take a hint, I act on it right away or anything.  I'm just saying I can take one.   Kind of like a nap, I'm thinking.

Wait.  Nothing like a nap, because it is well known that I cannot take a nap.  Bad analogy.  Oh man, and that's even the part of the SAT that I aced. 

By saying this, I don't want to imply that this is the first hint I've had, the first tug, the first nagging pointed finger in my back telling me to start blogging again.  But this one, well, it's a doozy (is that how you spell doozy?  doozie??).

It's not like I haven't been lonely.  Or missed writing.  Or reading.  Or all the ridiculous reading and linking and tagging and networking that leads to blog readership which in turn leads to motivation to keep writing.  Okay, I haven't missed that last one, you got me there.

It's been a long time, hasn't it.  Yup.  It has.

It's a common malady.  I'm seeing that.   As you know, I was all gung ho there for awhile.  And then it died out.   Or my life changed.  Or something.  As I've been considering coming back, I've meandered around the web, visiting some of the blogs that I loved and frequented during my gung ho days (which should be distinguished from my Gunga Din days, which are a completely different thing, though they do both involve a fair amount of carrying).  And, well, a lot of them ain't what they used ta be.  I'm pretty sad about that--they were great reading.  Some have just grown sparse, bare around the edges, while others have disappeared all together.  I guess what I'm saying is that I feel like I'm in some pretty damn good company (in the disappearing if not in the returning).  Hey, it's a first step with that loneliness thing, right?

But this isn't about going away.  It's about returning.  Again.

Believe you me, I'm asking the questions.  Why am I back?  Why am I trying to do this again?   Why say so, rather than just starting again?  Huh?

Well, first, because I can take a hint.  I told you that already.

Second, because the other night, I found myself watching Julie and Julia again (on TV this time--with ads, which I do NOT recommend, which is why I only wound up watching part of it).  I liked that movie.  And I remembered going to see it with friends--back in the day before they had a child and could do things like see movies--and smiling and laughing knowingly at her talking about doing a blog, getting comments, having "readers", and finding a construct that would move her to write daily rather than whenever she felt like it, which is really important because, as we well know, in today's ADD world if you don't have a structure for doing something all the time, it often doesn't get done, which is what Julie knew and so she decided to work her way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  I remembered how much fun it was, how much work it was, how it represented a tiny leap of faith that took place every single day, when I pressed "Publish", sending my words out into the middle of nowhere and everywhere, with trust.  It was a big deal.  I remember that now.

(by the way, Julie Powell's last blog post was more than  year ago (unless she's moved somewhere else, I'm lazy tonight so I'm not doing much digging).  So there.)

And third, because (this is a secret...shhhhh), well, I never stopped.  Yeah, I know that it looks like I stopped.  And I can't prove that I didn't, because there's no secret place --or worse yet, another blog, which would just be like infidelity, that would be wrong--where all the writing I did while I was stopped is located.  But I did write.  Every day.   Sometimes multiple times a day.   I even stayed on topic.   I wrote about the things I didn't (don't) get.    The trick was in getting them to come out the tips of my fingers.  Just wasn't happenin'.

So there I was, watching Julie and Julia and trying to keep track of the couple of hundred blog posts that were written in my head, or at least trying to get myself to stop writing them if I wasn't actually going to write them down, you know?, and then I got an email.  Because way back when, when I needed the structure that Julie Powell had (at least in her fictional persona) I found it in Nablopomo.  Write every day.  For a month.  Who can't do that?  It's 30 days, give or take a couple.  Sheesh.  If I can't do that....well then.  I have friends who do Nanowrimo, ferevvinsakes (and god bless 'em).

Yeah, that's who sent the email.  Nablopomo.  Because every month, they send a cordial little note saying what the theme for the upcoming month is, just in case you want to jump back on board (how nice of them!).  You don't have to follow the theme, it's just a crutch, in case you can't figure out what to write about, in which case you can write about the theme, which always seems harder to me than writing about something else, but there ya go.

So there they were.  In my mailbox.  And what did they say the "theme" was for September?

"Return"

Get that.   Like I said,  I can take a hint.

And so, as they say, I shall.

30 days.  Returning.   I can do that.