The question has occurred to me more often in the past month than it likely has to everyone else combined. Do I still blog? As a type-A, I like to see order in things, especially my life. When order is not seen, I struggle. So, do I still blog? I ask myself the question. For starters, if I don't blog anymore, then that checklist of things to write about can stop plaguing me. If I don't blog, then I can fill that writing time with something else. Like a nap. If I don't blog, then I can bother people with something else. It occurred to me that perhaps writing was just a stage. I had some stuff on my mind and I needed to get it off my chest. Maybe that's all it was and, now that I got it off my chest, I can simply go for a bike ride. If you go back on my blog (not that you should), you'd find the overarching story line to be about my insignificance. The fact that I recognized my insignificance was something I felt like should be pointed out. Well, I am sti
You don't know me. I'm okay with that. This is my search for insignificance.