Monday, October 20, 2008

for lack of the blog.

eleven days. eleven days without a single blog is weighing on me like the enormous stack of my children's unfinished creative memories albums in my closet. each passing day pressing down harder. the only difference is those albums are something i felt like i should have done or should do... someday. there is more urgency in the writing, which - as i've already expressed - isn't so much out of choice or obligation as it is necessity. that said, it isn't as though i've had nothing to blog about. while it's occasionally the case that i am so bogged down in mind-numbing day to day survivial, i mean, life... that there are no words, just a gaping void of unoriginality and a consequent lethargy that plagues my ability to form sentences... or take the time to sit and type them out.

enter work. i could blog on about the numerous blessings that came with this little [God-given] part time gig that i managed to land. but compensation, benefits and permanent three day weekends aside, the real benefits come with the organization of chaos and the solitude of a cubicle. after being off work for an extended amount of time, coming back to the office is almost downright refreshing. and i am refreshingly sorted, ever monday - after being all out of sorts on the weekend and extended vacations. mondays are such a paradoxical state of both dread and elation.

i have a lot going on (or is it going down?) in my life right now. and since whatever is within me inevitably and effortlessly flows out through my fingers onto the keyboard of my laptop, some of it will invariably, reveal itself. it’s difficult for me to filter through the shades of gray, distinguishing a line between transparency and honesty in the midst of my personal matters. after hiding behind a fa├žade for so long, i initially overcompensated by sharing too much – naively believing that was somehow the route to transcend honesty and reach some ambiguous level of authenticity. needless to say, i eventually came to the realization that neither honesty or authenticity require complete transparency before the world. there are some aspects of our lives that – in adulthood – we refer to as “private” or “personal” and i regret that it took me thirty some odd years to realize some things are just that. learning how to silence the part of me that longs to yield explanations and definitions is still, and likely always will be, an ongoing process.

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