Leave a wormhole after the beep.
2006 August 9
I’m sorry but Francesca can’t come to her blog right now.
She’s knitting dishcloths and trying to figure out why the hell she blogs. And what she blogs about. And what the rubbery damn point of blogging is anyway. What is this virtual semi-conversation? What? And why am I trying to do it? The existential angst-o-meter is currently running pret-ty high.
Basically, I’m in really bad space.
I’ll try to edge away from the event horizon. But it’s not looking good right now.
Whatever it is, I hope it works out for you.
Wow. I so understand.
Some folks believe that blogging is on some level self-effacing or just the opposite, somewhat narcissistic. After all, it’s a personal journal for all to read (and enjoy, as I do in this case.)
You may feel divided.
There is no pleasure to me without communication: there is not so much as a sprightly thought comes into my mind that it does not grieve me to have produced alone, and that I have no one to tell it to.
Montaigne.
Is it wrong that I’m laughing (at the wormhole & dishclothes) and nodding my head at the same time?
After getting myself all worked up over blogging and blogland last week, I have no idea what its really all about either. I created an account back in 2002 and then it sat untouched for years until my husband and a few friends prodded me to blog. I’ve never really figured out what the big picture point of it is. Maybe there isn’t one?
I enjoy your writing. And even though I do not know you, you seem like a really smart, fun, thoughtful woman and I kind of like imagining that there are lots of smart, fun, thoughtful people out there quietly leaving behind something of their lives for the rest of us to find.
I’m emailing you lady, as soon as I get this crazy baby to sleep.
i blog
because i enjoy
doing it.
sometimes
i get comments,
sometimes none…
whatever.
for me
it is an idea starter,
it makes me think,
and consider and plan…
i have done more
creative things
since i started to blog
than i have ever done
before…
and if i happen to make
some good personal connections
with people out of it,
then hey, that is a
(huge)
added bonus…
plus…
i tend not to pay attention
to other people’s opinions
much…unless i agree with
them…heh.
but i do hope that
things come around
and you keep blogging…
i’ll miss you if you don’t
It is really hard when one’s blog is both an emotional release, an intellectual exercise, a place to find like-minded souls, and a source of confusion and pain. You wrote on your blogiversary, I believe, about how much more the process of keeping a blog had given you than you expected. I do hope you find a comfortable place for yourself, blogging or not. For my sake, I hope that comfortable place is right here at your site….
aww hugs, it makes me sad to read you are in a bad place right now. I hope you can work your way out of it and find some peace
Whenever I think that maybe I should quit blogging because there is no real point or purpose, no end of game pay off, something always happens that keeps me from quitting. Maybe the point is there is no point. Maybe this can be the one thing that I do just for the hell of it, like kids spinning in circles or swinging or climbing trees. Fun.
I hope you find your way out of the wormhole. I hope you continue to blog because I would miss you. I hope that if you continue to blog you do so for you and you alone.
I hope you can work yourself out of that bad space, and figure out what you need to do for yourself, to make yourself feel better.
Hang in.
Don’t think at the moment, don’t fret, don’t angst (any more than you can avoid!). Just make time to take care of yourself. It sounds like you really need it.
Existential angst, I know it well. When I’m in dark periods of my life, everything looks pointless and shabby and I wonder what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, whether it’s mothering or wife-ing or writing or painting, pretty much anything. Then, at some deep dark bottom of whatever pit of despair I’ve fallen into, somehow the knowledge that everything is pointless makes everything suddenly important, whether or not I understand it, or anyone else connects with it. I live for those moments, that ascent out of the shadow. I hope you’re there soon. And that probably sounds trite, seeing as how I don’t know you from (if you’ll pardon the pun) a hole in the ground. But anyway. Knowing what it’s like, or at least what it’s like for me, I can sympathize, and I hope it’s better soon.