TRYING TO FIGURE OUT

What goes in this box may be one of the most daunting things in the world, you know?

After being on such a long hiatus, writing is more than just labor, it's a herculean effort. I'm out of practice, and it's never been more painfully obvious then now, as I attempt to conjure up words to fill this page.

As the proverb admonishes: use it or lose it.

I seem to have lost it.

The crickets are outside, chirping. It is a lovely, peaceful sound. Noisy, but not obtrusive. It is  amazing how such a furious activity(for them) is so relaxing(for me). Nature is full of elegant cacophony, from crickets to birds to the rustling of leaves to waves crashing on a shore. Beautiful as much as it is sonorous.

I'm having a hard time accepting that we are already over halfway through the month. August is everything the name suggests - the pinnacle of the year. After it, the months slowly decline. There is the welcome respite of the cool of september, unfortunately the year continues on this downward trend until we find ourselves in the frigid sinkhole of december and january.

Not a happy thought. 

I am constantly chided by the SO for always doing this - beginning an early mourning for the summer's end - but I can't help donning the proverbial sackcloth as the month nears conclusion. Summer is THE season for me. It's invigorating and enervating (at the same #@%^ time!) and i love every sweaty, uncomfortable minute of it. Summer is bounteous and sensual, robust and dynamic. It's salt and skin and laughter and color and sunshine and heat and electric. It's ripe and it's vibrant. Summer is the culmination of nature, and a renewal of spirit and mind.

Yet it ends so soon.

I fully understand why gauguin was obsessed with the islands. Beautiful women notwithstanding - the year long warm weather had to have been a tonic. It's the kind of climate that inspires. You can't help but be prolific when every day feels like a warm embrace.

But i'm not talking about anything I haven't before. That's thing about blogging, or any writing endeavor for that matter - topics come in cycles, and for the most part everything is a retelling. But that's the wonderful thing about words, they can be formed in an infinite number of combinations, each new iteration giving a different slant on the the subject. This is my fancy way of saying "I repeat myself."

If there's nothing else i've learned about writing, I've learned this: It's not so much about what you say, it's how you say it. This is a given in spoken conversation, but it holds true in the written word as well. Masters of prose - the authors we love, the skilled essayists, the professional and amateur scribes who spin words into gilded monoliths - are able to use language with precision, and transform the most mundane, repetitious thought into beautiful and insightful expression.

This entry feels more intimate than most. Not so much in subject matter, but in tone. Perhaps it's due to my solitude - the boo is zonked out. (i plan on joining him soon. lol.)  Or, perhaps it's the lighting in my study - more ambient than illuminating - tht's imbued the words with a cadence of familiarity. I feel like i'm having a conversation with a close friend. Those moments when you're talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Therapy. I hope it was as good for you as it was for me.

HELLO, IT'S ME

I've thought about us for a long, long time.

...No really, I have.

It's been the better part of a year (and a half!) since i've last blogged, but believe me there hasn't been a day (ok, maybe a day) that's gone by that i haven't thought of this here, my little nook in the digital universe. I've thought, and said to myself, "you should blog" but somehow my thoughts never translated to action. And now here we are, over a year later, and we've become strangers with familiar faces. Shoot, even blogger has a new format. Change is the only constant, I suppose.

Do you remember the time? We were young and innocent then. ©

*awkward silence*

So I guess at this point it would be appropriate to ask how you, my readers, are doing. Or am I being presumptuous in assuming that there still are readers to ask?

*more awkward silence* 

Yeah. I'm probably talking to myself.

I'll press forward regardless. Over the last yeah and a half, i've acquired, what's popularly called, a "life." Mmhmm. Not completely the reason for me bring m.i.a, but definitely some of it. My normally lackluster, yet quite comfortable existence has been kicked into high gear by a number of things, one of the most relevant being, a boyfriend. (boo, significant other, wind beneath my wings - whatever the kids are calling it these days.)
 


Yes, the perennially single, always a bridesmaid, penny-with-a-hole-in-it, woman that you have come to know, (and, lets be honest, love) has joined the rest of the well adjusted adult population and procured herself a running mate. :-) It was a long time coming, and it totally blindsided me - i'd resigned myself to being an orphan of romance, at least for the remainder of my childbearing years - but a one in a million chance of a lifetime and all that sentimental folderol happened, and guess what? He's amazing and it's amazing and *THIS* (oh yes honey ALLLLL CAPS) is completely worth the wait. It really is true that when you don't look for love is when it comes. In fact, in my case I was totally oblivious to love (as i usually am to affection from anyone other than my parents) until it came in and smacked me in the face.  And oooh chile...

Ahem.

I'd continue to gush, but this train of thought is probably interesting to no one but me.

Other than the addition of a leading man, my life has been pretty much standard fare. I continue to be the nerdy bluestocking with an affinity for word and the mighty sinensis. It's my goal to rekindle my affection for writing, i miss this outlet. Writing has always been a cathartic endeavor, and as i compose this entry, i'm experiencing that old familiar feeling. The one i had when i first started this blog, and had committed myself to chronicling my thoughts, hopes, dreams, in addition to the other odds and ends of my personality.

So why have i been away so long? I admit that microblogging(twitter) has totally derailed my long form. 140 character "tweets" don't require the contemplation or diligence of traditional prose. It's quick and to the point and instantly gratifying - but in a lazy, disjointed, distracted and disinterested way. It's your words, but it's not cohesive, there isn't a theme, no idea that would unify that is an earmark of composition. It's more like...  extemporaneous tourettes. It's wholly self centered in a way that traditional prose isn't. That's part of it's attraction i suppose. Paragraphs and well developed thought are not a necessity when participating in that forum. I love it, and it's quite addictive, and even useful, for what it is - but it hasn't exactly been good for my blogging. :-(

But, enough of that. The point is, i'm here. And hopefully you are too. I've missed you. Leave a comment, let me know how you're doing.  Let's reacquaint ourselves. ;-)


XOXO