Hey this blog is still here, even without new posts for months. It’s like a Sopranos episode I watched recently, with Carmela in Paris. How do we know the people in Paris existed before we got there? And that they’ll continue to exist after we leave? (My apologies of course to my Parisian reader[s].) Which led her into deeper existential questions of life and death fit these days only to be addressed on prime time pay TV or in the theater. In any case, the blog is still here. You may have even visited it since last I posted. And for the record, it hasn’t been the Droid keeping me away, as captivating a distraction as that little toy is.
Perhaps it’s that I’ve been less reflective these days. I am and have always been hopelessly self-aware and therefore self-critical. If you read this blog at any length, you’ll recognize quickly who my favorite topic is. And if life were all about me this would be one of my most valuable character traits. For me to be less reflective is something at least worth writing down. (Though worth posting publicly you be the judge). It could be I suppose that I’m beginning to give up on myself. Or rather, beginning to give up on my ability to improve myself through thorough self analysis. Journaling is useful. Self-analyzing is informative. The examined life and all. But if these last five or six years have been about anything they’ve been about pummeling my self-centeredness into oblivion (by of course pummeling me into oblivion). Self analysis is not so valuable at the bottom of the crater where my big dreams were. Turns out self pity goes much further down there, but that’s a topic for another post. In any case it doesn’t get me out. The way out is by moving forward without my big bad self – a journey I’ve been on this last year or two. At least I hope I have; I could probably also rewrite this post and just as easily cast myself as stagnant and apathetic instead of heroic and overcoming. You see how much I still like myself?
Anyhow, life goes on. And if life is after all not about me then I hope I have the balls to recognize who it is about.