Waving, Not Drowning

Hey, weblog. I seem to write to you once a year, like clockwork. I think of you often, fondly, as someone that helped me through a ton of trouble I was in, and to whom I was profoundly ungrateful.
PenPaper.gifI lie in bed in the mornings as my body tries to get up steam to sit, inching my way through new imaginary articles I’ll write here, wondering what more I have to say, imagining what more help you could give me if only I could get back to you. There’s some anxiety associated with you I have yet to understand. I do feel guilty about you, weblog. I’ll never delete you, and look in on your often, as a mirror onto me. Maybe sometime soon, those waking imaginations will gather vowels and consonants around them and walk.

In the meantime, after 12,000 junk comments (I so neglect you, weblog), I’ve closed comments to all but authenticated readers. So if anyone is looking in, please do comment, it may be enough to help me worry less and write more. It’s just that you’ll have to authenticate at Typekey first. It’s quick and you can use it on other blogs. I’d love to hear from you.

P.S. Weblog, I removed that last entry from a year ago about politics and war. I’m still angry, it’s still awful, but it’s not something I want on the front page. This weblog is about gender and illness. So it will stay. xxx