I keep trying, and just do not have the drive to keep this blog alive. Is it a desire thing? A fear that people will read what I write and hate it? That makes no sense, very few people read my scribblings and the ones who do like it. I enjoy writing, really I do, and I have written well over a thousand words every day for the last few weeks, just none of it fiction.
But it was mostly important, important to me, to the community in which I live. Sure, I have a dose of self-importance, but i realize the world would turn without me. I realize that what happens next Tuesday does not define me, but it is helping to shape me, to create the person I am going to be in 2 years, 5 years, 20 years. Just like the stuff I did 20 years ago helped shape who I am now, but did not define who I am now. That person, while as real as I am now, is a fiction too, a blur, a creation of my mind then, a very muddled mind.
This person is still a creation of my mind, not quite as muddled, and more real, or so I would like to believe, maybe when I check back in 20 years I will laugh at the fictional me I created.
And that is that, life is moving me in directions un-chosen, but interesting for sure.