I keep thinking about the blog. Most of the people I started with--the people I met through blogging--stopped long ago. Or they changed their blogs and I didn't keep up. Or they are once-a-year posters similar to me. I read something recently about how as a writer it's a good practice to write three pages a day, first thing, no judgment, no purpose, just words on a page. I tried once. I don't know what I need or what my aim is. Then today I thought, the blog is my "three pages." It's where I go to put things down and sort things out. It changed over the years as more people, including friends, started reading. I had to tailor things a bit. I had to abridge and elide. I don't think that's the reason I stopped writing at all. A lot of things changed that made it harder. I know I slowed down before Paris, but I did keep up a pretty regular blog there, which is good.
When I got home, I was adjusting, finding my way back to my routine. Then when I really got settled, work got busy and hard. I still don't think there was on incident that marked the end of regular blogging. I would like to make this my space for just clearing my head again. I know I'm kind of going in circles--still wondering what I should do with my life, still wishing I had a steady relationship. I don't know why these things are never resolved for me. I've been told now by two different dudes that finding a partner happens when you stop trying. Well, if I haven't stopped, it's pretty damn close. But how do I stop *wanting* it, which is really what they mean. I don't feel desperate and i think if I were, I could've had a boyfriend by now. I have rejected many men who wanted something more than a merely casual relationship. I am picky and always have been. Does being extremely picky mean I relinquish my right to complain? I know it's tiresome and basically never-ending so I think that I will try and stop. It does me no good and it's seriously boring. I will renew this blog with the hope of getting back to a more grateful place.
I do find my life pretty routine these days. It's not boring and it's not exciting. Everything is very even. Somethings are hard--like my dad. But most things just...are. This actually seems not so great but it could be so much worse.
I just came back from a few days in NJ. Visiting B1 because my oldest nephew (from Israel) was there with his wife and four kids. I took them all around for two days totally on my own. Completely exhausting. On Saturday, I took myself to Manhattan and walked ten miles. Then on Sunday B1 and I took them all back to Manhattan and walked another 6+ miles. I got home on Monday and I've been completely exhausted and barely able to work ever since. I did get a little done; just enough to keep things moving. I'm so tired to day but managed to drag myself to the farmer's market and sit here in my coffee shop for an hour. Then I'll drag myself home and station myself on the couch for the rest of the day.
Grateful for: knowing how good I have it.