Sometimes this blog reminds me of a slow lingering break-up I endured in my late 20s/early 30s/early 60s. You know instinctively that once the love has faded, it’s impossible to rekindle. But that didn’t stop me from unpicking the wound before it had a chance to stop bleeding nevermind hatch a scab.
We’ve had the silent treatment, the exasperated sighs of it’s-not-you-it’s-me. I even went so far as to delete all remnants of the url and change the lock. There was also final rolling credits so there would be no mistaking it for a quick commercial break. I began to see other social media without really enjoying the promiscuity. But I could always be seduced by the unfettered sound of my own voice. The familiar scent of anonymity reeling me in back onto the unmade keyboard to undress thoughts from the banal to the ridiculous.
The fee on this blog expires on Sunday next. I’m not going to renew it. Readers move on, and eventually writers catch up with them as they lose their zeal and their motivations stray elsewhere. The desire to write hasn’t waned, it just needs a new hanger to avoid further creases. Being a mixed ability person, it took me a while to twig this. That I stuck at a blog for three years is an unrivalled feat, as those of you who know me can verify. I am not known for my sticking power. Or staying in the same place too long. And only two of you know me back on Earth.
Anonymity is fast-becoming a dirty word, which seems a shame. It is a safe place for the reluctant speaker. A pixelated photo disguising folk to give them freedom to think and protect those around them. And yet, in its own not entirely unpredictable way, anonymity has managed to grip my flow in a headlock. It’s a relief of sorts because even I no longer enjoy the rigid privacy. Hey, ask me anything. Still, all credit to it for giving me a workshop to store my scraps of thoughts and tinker about with them in peace.
For a woman with too much to say at times, I was surprised my own favourite works were those cobbled together from few words. So, I’m thinking of downsizing and trading in lengthy posts for a crack at shorter formats. I might throw myself into a poetry workshop of some sort. By some sort, I mean an on-line version where I can avoid civility, eye-contact, and shame. I might even get a blo… oh, nothing .
Thanks a million for giving me an aul follow and crowd-funding my own form of madness with your presence. Next stop with a few of you is a pint. It’ll happen some time. G’luck with your own respective life-enduring endeavours. You’ve got to do what you must. Blogger today, Enya-impersonating taxidermist tomorrow. Who knows.
Insert awkward hug here.