I am not sure what happened. Sometimes, I feel that I cannot be 100% honest here and that any opinion I express will insult someone….will hurt someone. And that can become quite paralyzing. For example, I have had a post brewing for ages in my brain about my shift in motherhood – that of going from a mother to teeny-tiny kids, to school-aged ones and how that affects my future choices. I have a post about my experiences taking a conceal carry/ gun safety class. And a post about why we told Arun about the Boston bombing and about Newtown and about tragedies in general. However, I have learned from past experiences that no matter how carefully I phrase words, no matter how carefully I attempt to tip-toe that someone... somewhere will be hurt or insulted or angry. I already spend an excessive amount of emotional energy tiptoeing around people's feelings on Facebook and in Real Life that by the time I get here, I am simply tapped out all the while realizing THAT is a post right there -- how to be true to yourself without trampling over people.
And then, at one point, I accidentally blew up the template on my blog. My blogroll is now missing, my sweet sheep are out wandering in the Blue Nowhere and…… I don’t know. I thought that was a sign that I need a massive redesign on my blog but when I tried to find a designer, I could not find someone who would design on Blogger. However, does a blog design really matter?? Add in the impending demise of Google Reader, I can’t help but wonder what that will mean to the few readers I have left. Will any of it matter?
Still….I miss it here. I miss writing. I have drafts and scribbles and half-written entries scattered across various notebooks, journals and computers. Over the next month, I am going to dust off some of those drafts. I hope you will have patience with me as I recap a trip that I took last summer….as I wax sentimental on my kids…. as I post some snaps from a painting project from last fall….. as I post about some AMAZING books I read last year…. as I bore you to tears with my newfound passion for knitting socks.
Maybe somewhere in all of this I can find my voice again.
Even Anjali is bored with this post.
