I don't look at this whole blogging thing as a kind of production shop. I write when I want, as much as I want and for whomever I want (which really means just me). That noted, I confess to something of a decline in blogging units of late. That's probably going to be the case for a while to come.
Lack of topics? No. Hell, I could write a ream over a certain Senate candidate and her fascination with humanoid-brained mice.
No, the answer is a tad bit more complex: I have a lot on my mind now that I simply can't really share in this kind of forum for a variety of reasons. Some of these reasons are almost de-facto policy for NCFE, such as the fact that I generally will not talk about my employer, regardless of what happens at the office. That's partly a function of economic self-interest and partly out of loyalty. Others, well let's just say that I don't always understand what's in my head, let alone understand it enough to be able to write about it.
Funny though that when it comes to times like this, I'm often drawn to my favorite poet, Emily Dickinson. Now in fairness, I want to note that a dear friend pointed this poem out to me the other day as being symbolic of some of the "stuff" I'm dealing with at the present time. Anyway, Emily (I'm going to be familiar for a moment) had this knack for describing sometimes incredibly complex feelings, thoughts and emotions using some of the simplest language around. That's part of the genius of poetry I suppose...it's a form of expression where the meaning is always far greater than the sum of the letters & words.
The poem referenced was #419 (you Emily fans out there know that her poems don't have titles), which you can read HERE. I'm going to cull the most important verse from my perspective:
The Bravest—grope a little— And sometimes hit a Tree Directly in the Forehead— But as they learn to see—
That's a pretty telling description for me at this stage of my life. I'm hoping to be brave enough to grope, and maybe eventually even learn to see.
Too nebulous? Not clear? Oh well.