Wow.
That was weird.
What happened?
Did someone punch the Improbability Drive on The Heart Of Gold? Where's Zaphod? We haven't lost him again have we?
I've been away. Don't ask me where. I couldn't tell you. I'm back now.
How do you like my new digs?
I'm trying it on for size. I'm not committed to it just yet however. I have another scheme in mind, but OH the time required to change it! Sets my knees to smiting one another to coin a King James phrase.
Today is my third anniversary here at DearDiary. Three years ago if you had told me I would be writing this entry, I would have tweaked your nose and had a good laugh at you, you silly old thing.
I started writing because I had amassed a small backlog of essays I had written while working my way through the book "Discovering The Writer Within" by Ballenger and Lane.
I had been reading about blogs in the newspapers and magazines and wanted to give it a go myself. At the time I was quite intimidated by the whole thing because the majority of blogs that I ran across were political commentary sites with astute high level writing, with many links to articles gathered from the web. If that was real blogging, I was going to be a miserable failure.
CRAP!
This sounds like a flippin' newspaper article. And a not very good one at that.
What do I really want to say?
[Long pause for serious reflection]
What I WANT to do is whine like a well practiced three year old about how messed up I am lately.
My body is on a hormone suicide mission. Just last week I had a little test called "endometrium scavenger hunt" that involved scrapage and massive doses of ibuprofen. I'm getting pretty fed up with problems in places I can't even SEE, but sure can FEEL.
I asked the nurse practitioner the age of her oldest patient still having a period. "Fifty five." she said, smooth as butter.
I will be fifty five in January. I feel like a freak of nature. Sort of Frankensteinesque. And we all know how he ended up.
As a side effect of all this nonsense, I am having a real hard time focusing on writing anything but stream of consciousness gibberish, quite similar to what you are suffering through right now as a matter of fact!
AND because writing has become my own personal gold standard for highly charged psychological labels like, "normal", "healthy", "content", "productive", and "SANE", you see how I might be a little freaked out over here.
Over the years I have engaged in many creative hobbies, (I had a whole list of them, but I won't bore you with recording it here) but as other things came and went, writing was always the one constant, the one thing that I was always engaging in one way or another. So listen, when my life started getting so out of balance that I found it difficult to WRITE for gosh sakes.... Well, let me tell you, there has been no small amount of wig out time lately.
I cannot say that I'm in any better place with it than before my "vacation from blogging". But I promised to return, and return I have. I have no idea what the quality of work will be around here, but I'll do my best to show up.
I must warn you however. Somewhere in my thirty days, I have managed to pick up a quite unwanted panel of judges. ( A train wreck always attracts morbid onlookers) A small gaggle of stuffy old school English types who have been looking over my shoulder these last many days. I got tired of calling them One, Two and Three, so have given them names.
The testy triumvirate consists of Basil, Nigel, and Cedric. Otherwise known as the Mid-Life Tribunal. Annoying does not begin to describe them. They wish to make a statement. . .I will spare you the 14 page document they submitted for publication and just skip to the end.
"In summary, the only definitive thing we can say about this entry is: 'Yetzirah showed up.' "
(Me, I'm going on vacation. You don't even want to KNOW what I have been through these past 30 days. Keep her amused for me will you, I gotta get out of here.)
Pssshhht, I wish I could go on vacation too. . .
Er....
Oh wait. I already did that didn't I?
Oy vey.