Another night. It feels later than it is. Not as late as recent nights, but a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I better go turn on my blanket… okay. That’ll be warm by the time I finish the post.
How about this late-night posting all the time? It’s when I have available. The end of the day, Heath’s gone to bed, I’m getting too tired to do anything productive, but I’m still awake enough to ramble… I guess you get what you get.
Not that anyone will read these posts. A month’s worth of posts appearing all at once? Who would bother? Maybe Iain, to see where all the words came from, but … with all the web work and school work he’s been doing lately, he may not read it either. Who knows.
Anyway, tomorrow, I have to wake up in the morning and … stay awake all day. Going to Phoenix, doing the birthday lunch with Angela, leaving Heath with April to get a haircut, shopping for power tools and abrasives and maps and I don’t know what else, picking Heath up and going back across town to drop Heath off, then going shopping for other hardware, perhaps some epoxy, and then some groceries. I don’t know what else will go on, but then the drive home. I had a few things on my list, I don’t know if I’ll be able to pick them up. Mostly pens, paper, simple stuff. Maybe we’ll stop by an officemax or such. Maybe we won’t. I don’t know.
I don’t know what to post about.
I want to say a little about the presidential race, but I don’t have much positive to say about it. Which unfortunately has been how Bush and Kerry have been doing things, too. Bush has been attacking Kerry from his first speech and exploiting national tragedies from his first ad. Kerry has also begun trash-talking (though I saw the clip and that he was actually speaking about Bush was not clear to me) himself. I don’t want to see Bush stay in office; I didn’t like his actions and lies before, and now he’s just being a dick. I don’t particularly want to see Kerry in office, either. I hear big talk about the importance of voting, vote early, vote often, get out and register to vote, but if no one worth voting for is willing to step up, what’s the point? I don’t want to choose the candidate I think will do the least harm, I want to choose the candidate I think will do the most good, and it’s ridiculous the sort of candidates we’re faced with year in and year out. The sort of people who would be willing to run for office, the sort of people who are capable of being “successful” at politiking are not the sort of people I want running MY country. I support term limits. In fact, if we could move entirely from a Republic to a Democracy successfuly, I would stand behind that entirely. The entire system right now is just silly.
I want to get some cleaning up done around here. While Heath is gone, perhaps I can get ahead on a few things I’ve been falling behind on. Cleaning, which should lead to writing, too. And I’m not nearly as far on my coffee table as I’d like to be. I don’t know what I’m going to do next, either, after the coffee table. Heath has been working on a lamp with/for me. It needed a metal base/body welded together and shaped before I could get to my part of it’s design. Which I can’t really start on until Saturday, I guess, and which looks like it make take several days or weeks to complete. This piece is … perhaps less likely to sell right away, though more … more a product of my creative mind than natural form wood furniture.
My mind is wandering, I should be sleeping, I’ve got to get up in the morning. I bet that’s what it seems like I always post about, these days. Sleeping, being tired, what I’m supposed to be doing the next day, days, weeks… Is this what I’ve got left?
I could post about being single. I am still single. I could moan on and on about the trouble I’ve had in relationships, in trying to find relationships, in the years since anyone has done anything but reject me as anything more than a friend. I could write new, bad poetry about the pain and lonliness of my life. But do you want to read that? Does that draw you in, or drive you away?
I could post about every trivial detail of my life, what I ate at every meal, how every step of every day turned out, every web site I visit, every thought I have. I could describe in detail every branch I picked up and loaded onto the truck and trailer as my father trimmed the third apple tree, each scratch and bump and complaint from my brother. I could write every day about each little cough and pain and problem by grandparents are having, about going downhill and appearing to recover and getting worse again and how even returning to a sub-standard level seems like a good day sometimes. I could certainly write a lot about every little communication problem I have with my father and the stress and difficulties it brings to so many easy things around here.
But do you want to read all the boring details? Do you need a play-by-play of a couple hours of manual labor? Do you want to suffer through the slow death of people you’ve never met? Don’t you have enough trouble communicating with your own parents?
Is there anything about my life you might want to read?
Is your interest why I post here?
Or do I post for myself?
It’s a journal, right? Online journal, sure, but a journal nonetheless.
Sometimes, especially when I’m looking for feedback or trying to solicit sales of one of my creative ventures, I feel as though it were actually a private, hand-written journal that is perhaps locked safely away from prying eyes. Because I get nothing. No responses, no sales, no way of knowing I’m doing anything more than writing for myself.
Which perhaps is part of why I’m posting this entire month’s worth of posts in “secret”. To remind myself that it’s about me. To remind myself that no one else gives a rat’s ass. To remind myself that whether I make these posts “public” or not, all I get is SPAM comments and a few lurkers. MoveableType is doing a test of their 3.0 system, and reading through the qualifications I saw that one of their requirements is that participating blogs have “active commenting communities.” Ten comments a day across 35 blogs does not an active community make. Ten comments a day from 1000 to 1500 visitors a day is actually pretty sad. But what I need to realize is that this site, Modern Evil, FYTH, all of it, it’s not meant to be a business, it’s not much more than a construct for my own enjoyment. At first supported just by one good friend and now supported more by him and his friends than me or anyone, as far as constant content is concerned.
I don’t even know what I think I want from this site anymore, really. I’m becoming disheartened. It started around the time I noticed I was getting bored with the posts on my own site and had to program a way to avoid the worst of them. Worst … because they are the least interesting to me, the least like what I want my site to be like or about. PP, BBB, click, click, gone. I don’t want to run a cutsie site or a political site. Alison’s Poetry, that’s a treasure. I wish I had more original poetry on the site all the time. Any outlet of creative talent is wonderful. Daily Doodles, comics, well-written prose, whatever. Probably, if I read my own posts, I wouldn’t like them either. Too self-indulgent, I might say. Too scatterbrained, too much … something, nothing, I don’t know. But I don’t have to read my own posts to post them. I hardly know what I’ve said here.
My eyes are burning, my mind is shutting down, I should stop. This is getting silly.
Perhaps I’ll know what the site is here for tomorrow. or by the end of the month.