far too much writing, far too many photos

So here’s the truth: I’m posting the kind of nonsense I’ve been posting lately — e-mail entertainment, all that — because I don’t know how to write about what’s truly going on with me. I mean, I can scribble (or type) about being up here in the mountains, and about seemingly-eternal winter, dandelions, blah-dee-blah-dee — and I do — but it’s just a way of filling up the online equivalent of column inches. After a certain point, it becomes empty, superficial verbiage. The true activity in this life of mine right now is mostly internal, and I don’t yet know how to lay that out here. (Not that anyone’s asking me to.) At least not yet.

I’m a lousy correspondent right now — both here and in the e-mail universe — because I’m genuinely preoccupied. Not a state I’m crazy about. Friends who write often don’t hear back from me until days or weeks have slid by. More than one have simply not heard back from me yet (for which I grovel with apology). It’s just the way it is, and I’m not fighting it or giving myself a hard time about it. It’ll pass.

Enough about this. I’m heading to bed.

Be well.

Leave a Reply

Proudly powered by WordPress. Theme developed with WordPress Theme Generator.
Copyright © runswithscissors. All rights reserved.