Fifty years ago, at the quiet hour of 9:29 p.m., yours truly was born. The youngest of four, I lived a quiet childhood. At least from my perspective. I tried to do nothing that would draw attention to myself. I wanted to live in the shadows and had no interest in the spotlight.
When I was four, I had my tonsils removed. Then, I spent a couple of weeks in the hospital with a staph infection in my knee — what the docs first thought was cancer. I started kindergarten on crutches, or what I called crunches at the time.
And here’s where I was going to launch into a grand explanation of my life so far. I’ve thought about this post for the last few days. All sorts of things I wanted to share. The grand story that explains why I am where I am. The only problem is … now that I sit down and write it, I don’t see the point. It is what it is. Rehashing it serves no purpose other than for me to wallow in it. And maybe, just maybe, that’s a sign of a small step of progress that I’m making. Blogging about where I’m at and where I’ve been doesn’t actually do anything or mean anything.
So, instead … I’ll just leave it at this.
I have spent my life trying to figure it out. The problem is that I don’t even know what the “it” is that I’m trying to figure out. I started this blog several years ago, for no other reason then to just blog. To write about what ever I felt like writing about.
It worked for awhile. Then it, along with all of the other bloggers I started to follow and read regularly, became a distraction.
I’m done with the distractions. Yes, you’ve heard this before. But I mean it this time. This blog is going dark for awhile. More than a day, a week, or a month.
I’m on vacation. Trying to figure out what the “it” is and how I can find it and wallow in it instead of what I’ve been wallowing in for far too long.
P.S. Don’t worry about me. I’m THE eternal optimist. And I’m going backpacking in 2015 for the first time in my life. Guaranteed.