This blogging stuff is something of a conundrum. When I’m not doing it, I really feel like I’m neglecting something important. I feel like I have something to say, and I’m somehow falling short by not getting out there and saying it. I recall the activity with nostalgic longing, and decide over and over again that I need to get back to it.
When I’m actually making blog posts, it seems like a pointless exercise. I find I have little of interest to say. The activity feels both isolated and isolating. There’s little sense of communication, not to mention communion, and the whole thing ends up feeling like I’m shouting into the void.
But I guess that beats shouting at the dog. He’s such a sensitive soul.
So once again, the mind needs somewhere to roam. I find myself composing essays to no one. One idea or another for writing flares in my mind, only to be beaten back by my habit of procrastination. There’s loads of reading going on these days, but the writing is all internal, occurring primarily during the dog’s walk and dissipating immediately once the ritual ends.
What the hell. What else am I going to do with my time?