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A Blog’s Blog and Mover’s Lament

I think I’m overthinking this blog thing.

Scratch that. I know I’m overthinking this blog thing. 

Yesterday was the last day at my old apartment, after three years of reasonable silence and my own private garage. As I performed a final walkthrough, shrugging off the marks on the walls that would be painted over soon enough, I thought about my car in the garage and the items that I had stuffed into the backseat and the trunk.

Personables, some might call them.

It was my sixth – seventh? – and final trip to the apartment, grabbing what I needed and throwing away what I’d never use again. For the items that were too new or unused, I tossed them at the nearest Goodwill without a sliver of remorse (well, except for that moment of nostalgia for my cassette player with the shoulder strap). Now, as I sit in my new apartment and peruse my domain, I’ve noticed something.

Seventy percent of my “personables” is crap. 

I can survive without most of it and have too much of the rest. Boxes stacked against every wall. Plastic bags of spices, oatmeal and tile cleaner. A package of unopened picture frames. It’s so cluttered in my kitchen, I can’t even reach my stove. 

Which brings me back to my blogging experience.

As the weeks and months have passed, and I continue to hone my writing abilities into something that will someday make a profit, I find myself collecting every piece of advice available to ensure that I do everything “right.” 

What should I write about?

What is vital? What isn’t?

How often should I write?

How do I start? How much information is too much information?

Should I read a how-to? How many how-tos?

Will anyone read this? What if they don’t? Am I wasting my time?

Just what is the airspeed velocity of a coconut-laden European swallow?

Booklets, websites, questions, ideas, considerations, chores, work, thought — life. By wanting to write, I’ve done almost everything possible to guarantee that I don’t. It’s such a cliché situation, but maybe that’s because it’s so easy to succumb to and place everything else before this simple, integrative action.

Things like collecting crap.

Collecting takes up time. Unwrapping keeps me from considering my thoughts, unsettling and toxic that they may be. Browsing for goods keeps me unconcerned from the problems in the world and under my own nose. When I’m buying, I’m busy.

Writing opens my mental flood gates, and darn it if it isn’t an agony to seal them up tight. There are days when I may lose myself in the flow and drown in the depths of the aftermath.

Or I could float to the top and let the current carry me towards a safer, more pleasant destination.

 

Spring is arriving. So is spring cleaning. Maybe I should go ahead and get a head start.

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