It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything of note. Here’s a list of reasons for that, but I’m not sure which ones have the most weight:
- I suffer from anxiety
- I suffer from mild depression and/or this winter has depressed the crap out of me
- I have a lot of work to do at my day job and feel guilty if I “waste” writing-time on myself
- I don’t feel like writing or sharing things that I once did, because Facebook has become the default destination for minor personal observations
- I feel like I can outsource being clever to Twitter
- I use my tumblr blog to post short book-excerpts and literature-related thoughts
- I let myself get distracted and drown in tweets and RSS feeds
- I spend too much time by myself and the lack of conversation really takes a toll on me
- I feel tapped out and don’t have much to say (I think this is a big one, but it’s just a symptom and not a cause; I’ve started a couple of posts that just seemed useless, so I zapped ’em)
- I make it too easy not to write
- I would rather write a book of anecdotes and observations about my old man
- I would rather launch a regular podcast, if I can just suss out some technical issues and get over my anxiety about asking someone to sit down for an interview
- I would rather work with Amy to make video-montages set to music
- I have a sneaking suspicion you’re all tired of my stories, observations and complaints
- I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m a fraud
- I don’t get around much anymore
I know that if I just get back to writing, it’ll alleviate a lot of the symptoms, but I just can’t do it. I’m afraid I sound like a DTC ad for an antipsychotic med.
Maybe I should go back to posting thoseÂ What It Is updates every week, but I came to resent the imposition of those, too, just like all the other regular features I tried to write.
I often find myself singing John Entwistle’s song, 905: “All I know is what I need to know / Everything I do’s been done before / Every sentence in my head / Someone else has said / At each end of my life is an open door.”
It’s never a good sign for an adult to find life-parallels in any song by The Who. I’m gonna try and cheer myself up with some Sam Cooke.