What a thing to do.

I have a history of saying “never” and a split second later, doing the exact thing I was “never”-ing. When I’m thinking about something I’d previously closed my mind to, for some reason, I tend to wake up shortly thereafter and do that very thing.

I’ve often found myself giddy over some boy who had characteristics that weren’t on “the list”–you know, the one all girls say they don’t have but really do. I said I would never teach again, but, well, you see where I am and what I’m doing. Those are gradual changes, though, that make sense with time.

Often, though, it’s a very quick and ironic turnaround. I had just made the decision to keep my ’95 Escort for a couple more years, as I really didn’t need a car payment, when I totaled it and ended up buying the Focus. I will take an oath that I will never diet again, and then the next week, I’ll buy the latest diet bestseller and just know that this is the one that will get the weight off for good. Just a couple of weeks ago, I walked by a Claire’s store and on impulse went in and got my cartilage pierced, though I’d just been talking to a friend about how I was going to wait for her and we’d go get me pierced together.

By the same token, yesterday I read this post by Malia. I left a comment about how blogging was something I did to make time for myself and keep perspective on things.

And now, the turnaround.

I think I need to not blog for a while.

What brought me here? A couple of things I’d rather not go into. Plus, maybe my introversion is catching up with me. Putting myself out there, while therapeutic, also weirds me out sometimes. I’m afraid it also might put those I love into weirded-out positions.

It’s the struggle I’ve faced my whole life with this writing thing–words are what I love the most. They’re what hurt me the most, and inspire me the most, and embarrass me the most. I feel like, if developed, writing is a talent I could have someday. That was part of the aim of this crazy blogging venture to begin with. Sometimes I wonder if I should be using that talent for something else…though I don’t know what that something is yet. I’m going to think about that for a bit, if it’s all the same to everyone.

Is this the end? I don’t know. I just honestly don’t. And I really am okay with that.

6 responses to “What a thing to do.

  1. I feel you, sister. You’ve got talent — Whatever you decide, keep on writing! In any event, it would force us to get to know you the old-fashioned way.

  2. Miss Holly,

    I’ve read and very much enjoyed your posts for a while but have failed to comment before. That said, I commend you for understanding that sometimes you need to just think to yourself for a while. Especially in your profession, you’re on stage all day, every day, to an audience that is often … um … less than enthusiastic. And still you persist, because you are fulfilling your calling, and that takes courage and brains and heart and even some red shoes and a little bitty dog in a basket, if you’re lucky.

    Your commentaries, whether on the beauty of what passes by the window or the frustration of making your way in a sometimes isolated and hostile world, are much appreciated. We anticipate your return with pleasure.

    We also send you a great big snuggly bearhug. It’s not as good the real thing, of course, and it would probably be more appreciated coming from a good-smelling boy instead of a grumpy old chick, but hey, it’s still sincere.

    Thankful for you, ma’am. Enjoy your break.

  3. I understand what you mean because I’m the same way myself….all too often.
    I really really enjoy coming here and reading your posts, but this is certainly not the end all be all for writing. In fact, to be honest, I’ve always thought a blog was just about the worst place to write because you inevitably end up posting what you want people to hear and not necessarily what you’d really like to say (most of the time). It’s only about halfway cathartic at times and then when you try to make it more, you get bogged down in fear that the wrong person might see.
    You’ve definitely got “it” and most of the time “it” is way too big, important and special for a blog. Your talent deserves a better venue.
    Like Diana said, keep on writing. Keep going. Keep expanding. You might come back to this and you might not, but at least you’ll be exploring your options, putting out your feelers and allowing yourself to be completely cathartic without fear or shame.
    With that mouthful said, I really can’t wait to meet up with you this coming up Wednesday.
    Have yourself a wonderful Thanksgiving!!!

  4. I said I’d never live in TN. HA!

    I’m going to use the topic of this post and my sister’s as my reason for dropping of the face of the blog-earth as well. I have been delinquent in my blogging, but it is good to take breaks and focus on other things. I know I will eventually return to my blog. I love my blog. But I won’t let it become something that rules me – something that I feel obligated towards. There are too many other more important things in life that must be accomplished – that must consume my loyalty. I don’t want to let ‘obligation’ make me resent my beloved blog. You know? :-P

    Hope you have a great Thanksgiving Holly!
    l, e

  5. P.S. — Miss Holly, you are *clearly* more grown than I’ll ever be.

    Most days, that’s not saying much, but it’s still intended as a compliment.

    One of them chirren is going to surprise you wonderfully before the break. Yea verily. They’re like that.

    Continued bearhugs.

  6. Holly,

    I understand the need to be away from the blogosphere for a bit. Or maybe even permanently. I had the debate in my head a few weeks ago when I got commented on by someone who was a friend or family member of my ex-wife. I knew that by putting myself out there and being transparent as to who I am, it would be easy for them to follow and/or find me. But I decided to post my response and continue blogging, though right now I admit I’m in a bit of a drought. So, it happens to the best of us. I will miss you and hope you will return.

    Big Orange Michael