This thing here expires in February. The 23rd or something. I’ve been trying to decide if I want to keep it or not. I keep leaning towards quitting, but seriously, when I think of this place not being here anymore, it kills me. This has been here for more than 5 years. I moved it around from place to place before landing here. I brought it through a name change and a massive pile of makeovers. I like it here. I don’t even look at other places anymore. I used to. When I was with those other guys, I was always looking. I was hoping there was something better out there, something more. That could change again, in a few more years. I suppose. If I keep it around that long. I’m not ever very happy anywhere for too long.
The thing I’m not crazy about is just picturing a world in which I can’t write here. I’ve never been about an audience. It’s not like I’m worried about upsetting the tens of people who read this site. I have no delusions of grandeur. I needn’t contact the gazette to inform them of my cessation of the page. There’s no reason for a press conference. The few times I managed new traffic, I’ve sabotaged myself by failing to respond to their comments or taking another 6 months to update. People don’t generally like coming back to the same thing over and over again. You’d be surprised to know, based on our actions.

I hate that I neglect the place for so long. I fill scores of notebooks with inane drivel. It’s quality, inane drivel. Stuff I’m sure the rest of the world is desperate to hear about. I keep telling myself I should open the notebook and jot some stuff out, but when I open the notebook I am reminded of a million things I need to get done for work. I start out bargaining with myself. I’ll do twenty minutes of work and then write for a full hour. It never works. By the time my head pops up and I wipe the drool from my mouth, I realize too late that I’ve been working on forms and policies and applications for four hours straight. Writing isn’t an option then. Writing isn’t even possible then. The last thing I want to do is spend more time at the laptop.

I cling to this place in a way that means I am serious about it. I don’t want to let it go. I think about closing the door and I become dedicated to its survival. I’m like a little kid swearing, with renewed vigor, that I will take care of my puppy and feed it and bathe it and take it for walks every day from now on. I go about it with such feverish defense that one would never know how it scares me. It’s a good puppy and it’s smart and cute, but it’s such a big responsibility. Such a reminder of my failed pursuit of enlightenment.

What happened to my ambition was, I kept getting sidetracked and then forgot that I was going for something. I lost the thread somewhere along the way and it slipped away from me.

I’ve thought of reviving it. Administering creative CPR. What I thought I would do was, I would come up with a hook. I decided I would turn a gimmick in the form of serial content. I would make myself be disciplined about posting regularly. This never happens. Instead, what happens is that I get the big ideas and then pat myself on the back for a well-conceived plan and then file it away in the never to be done bin.

Still, I don’t want to abandon it. I don’t want to walk through the day like the living dead, hungry for a syllable or a well-turned phrase. I have a distinct distaste for pouring my heart out in public and no desire to change. It’s not about therapy. I leave a lot out when I tell the stories. I embellish and edit the boring stuff out. It’s not about the truth. I don’t think it’s hurting anyone. It’s just an outlet. An occasional, once in a while kind of outlet. I guess I’m okay with that.

Okay, we’re done here.