the conversation might be legit this time.

Thinking about going off-line with my journaling again.  I'm feeling kind of dumb about the whole thing - I mean, how many times have I broken up with blogging, only to go right back to it with an almost-intensified vigor?  Lots.  Too many times to count.  So let's not. 

I don't have anything to say anymore that isn't reminiscing, that doesn't remind me of the high-school-hair phenomena (when you can tell what year a person graduated by their 'do); it's all throwback.  We're in a lot of financial trouble at the moment because we bought more house than we could afford - well, no, the house itself wasn't the problem; it was the gory-and-still-growing-gorier size of the remodel list that brought us to our strawberry-ho knees, something we just really couldn't have foreseen, like the furnace that we were told we could just maintain but then found out that it was dead tired and had to go; and the windows because of the arctic breezes that passed straight through their sad, little panes, etc.  Anyway.  We. broke.  And always sick.  And who wants to listen to me whine about that?  *I* don't even want to.  Plus I don't feel like talking about it, and then there's all the time I should be spending trying to eke out some kinda living from the stuff I do that's supposed to be making us money, that I often put into blog-writing, that makes me feel often stupid and sidelined since I don't get that buzz I always used to when I first began the thing.  I haven't gotten a huge following after all this time; a zillion commenters on every post, some trolls, none of that - hell, lately, it's petered out to around, what, 3, or so?  Which just makes me say, why the fuck am I doing this pleasure-less thing that no one is bothering to read and I'm hating the writing of?  I have friends, real friends who I've made because of blogging, and god but they help me get through some bullshit, like Suebob, the woman is a godsend, she's ALWAYS there when I'm low, and Gwen, and Ruth, and Kristen, and Steph, and Jozet, and Mignon and Nancy and Katherine and Dawn, and Kristin, and feral mom, and Izzy, and Jaelithe, and Andrea, and Julie, and Julia, and Paula, and Kristie, and Mrs. Chicky, and Sarah, and Emily, and Pattie, and TNG, and Jenn, and Lily, and Sandra and Kittenpie and Jana, and Marcie and Binky and Anne, and Joanne, and K (Motherbumper), and kgirl, and Stacy, and Toyfoto, and Lotta, and Mary and Jess and Jen, and G, or you know, Bub&Pie - although she's kinda too busy with having been mentioned in a magazine by Catherine Newman (Ben and Birdy fame) to stop in much these days - *wink*, and of course my sweet Jenny-pie and dodo and Mel and Cristina and Nina, who will always be my friends no matter where I'm writing, even if it's only on the back of receipts and on the palm of my hand, old-schoolio.

Thinking really hard, really intently, about the quitting subject.  It might even be past due.  I am nauseated by the thought of writing, lately.  I've said it all, at least the stuff I'm willing to say out loud, the things that matter.  Whatever comes out beyond this is sort of just bile, and is therefore kinda painful x pointless.  I'm not being brilliant and wild-eyed-artist-ish, I'm not painting some fantastic 'scape, some mind-boggling thing of pure crazed art for people to blow their minds over.  When I first started blogging, I had only recently left the realm of the living, I still had a fresh-scented sheen of having recently been on the scene, and thinking crazy, exciting things about fashion and music and film and parenthood and stuff turned on its head and then not-quite-sideways, and I brought a new sound to the thing.  I was a new, interesting voice.  These days, oh, dear me.  I'm driving a minivan.  A free one.  *shakes head* And the really terrifying-because-it's-not part is that I like it.  I'm quite fine with minivan living.  I'm not the fresh, interesting, loudly strange voice anymore.  I have become what I knew I would, only even less so-much-so than people who are doing this shit honestly deserve to be described as.  I'm barely even motioning in my motions - and yet they make me sick, somehow, despite that.  And then there's this blog:  I'm just droning, yo.  About my fucking laundry and the shopping and the broke-ass-ness and the sickness and the laundry.  Did I say laundry already?  But it bears repeating because it takes up so much goddamn time.  Pink eye lingers, and the getting-it-gone requires a lot of washing with scorching-hot water and lots of it.  I've gone through many boxes of detergent and enough water to green up several lawns in the last few weeks.  It's sad.  And, see what I mean about the droning?  I. am. a. laundro-bot.  This. sentence. is. my. legacy.  *bleep-woozle-tweet*

So.  No worries about this.  I know who my friends are out there in faceless land, and I think you all rule the school.  You don't have to breathe a word about how true it is, how I've pushed into a really tepid, lame place with my nada-sense, because it's resonating all around me - my very life is in that place.  I can see the writing on every wall, and all the mirrors, too.

You don't have to hold my hand.  It'll be okay.  I'll still read you guys.  When I can.  You know, basically never, but once in a while anyway.

I think this might really be it.

Take care of yourselves, beautiful dames and fellas.  I meant well.  I tried hard.  I think I'm just tired, now.  What was the line from War Games?

Okay, dug it up on imdb:  Joshua, the computer, says "A strange game. The only winning move is not to play. How about a nice game of chess?"

I get it, now. 

Off to learn me some chess.

Comments

[ByJane]

Me too! Me too! Me too! It's so good to read someone who is not waxing eloquent over their ovaries and the ensuing children and the burgeoning career and the supportive husbands and the...whatever. Okay, I'm not that bitter, but really, your post was a breath of fresh air.

[Ruth Dynamite]

Oh friend, I have forsaken you in the name of chaos.

But I'm here now, and I hear you.

You control the blog; it doesn't control you. I know how it can get to feel the opposite, but once you relinquish the obligations to the rest of the world, you can express yourself as you see fit and call it a day.

You can write when you want, about whatever you want. It's that simple.

Let it be.

[Anna]

go forth and have more fun.

[jen]

oh babe, i know how you've struggled with this, i just want you to find your bliss. i'll miss you if you go, but will love you all the same.

[LawyerMama]

Oh god. This is how I feel on my blog lately. I feel like I'm always whining about being depressed or being sick or just being me and not the fabulous me I wanted to be. Sigh.

I so get it.

BUT, you are your harshest critic, you know. Trust me when I say that I never get bored of reading what you write. I will ALWAYS want to hear what you have to say.

I love the way you ramble. I love this glimpse into your head. Your wonderful, funny, witty, scattered, lovable head, big hair and all.

xoxo

[Major Bedhead]

Hmph. As some fella said, ain't that a kick in the head.

I will miss you - even when you think you're droning on about nothing, I find it entertaining/though provoking/funny as fuck. I don't have the time any more to read all the blogs I want to read, but yours is always one I refuse to remove.

So it will stay there, in my Bloglines, in the hope that one of these days, you'll come back to it, that I'll open my bloglines and there it will be, all big and bold-y, like. And I will shout Oh Frabjous Day! Deb is back! Calloo, Callay!

[Nancy]

I get it too. You should hear my conversations with myself in the shower: "I'm just gonna shut down the blog now and be done with it." "No, self, you have made great friends that way! Think of what you'll lose!" I'm sure the cats are entertained, but I'm using up a lot of hot water.

Do what you've gotta do, sweetie, even if it will make me cry. (Just kidding. No guilt here. Just know that I'll be looking forward to any glimpses of your writing brilliance that will come my way.)

[PunditMom]

You know, I think we all have feelings like this. I know I do. Even though my place is political, and not as personal, I still have quite a few days where I think, "Do I really have anything else to say? That anyone wants to read?"

Go with your heart and your gut. We'll still be here for you.

xo

[dodo]

click-tease!

[Kristin]

Ooh, the Belle and Sebastien of bloggers. That's perfect.

I, selfishly, hope you don't leave. Or if you do, that you will still make another appearance at BlogHer.

[Lotta]

I understand the need to turn back towards other things in your life. But don't even think for a minute that you have been anything less than engaging and interesting the entire time I've read you.

[kittenpie]

But anyone who can work in *bleep-woozle-tweet* ought to keep it up, baby. That's golden. I luuurve it.

But if you're feelign the fatigue, a break may be in order, and we'll just wait you out until you pop up in bold on bloglines again. And then we'll do the happy dance of deb and say yay, she's back!

and well, I'm a bit blushy at being in that list, so thanks for that, too... mwah.

[motherbumper]

I understand (oh gawd I understand) and if it's not enjoyable, why do it? I'm gonna miss you like crazy, refuse to remove your feed off my 5star list (which incidentally includes almost everyone you linky loved).

Oh god, I miss you already... oh god, I need my inhaler. Take care of yourself baby, and I'll promise to do the same.

[Chicky]

I can't quit you baby.

(Is it proper to use that line now? No? Sorry.)

I'll keep you in my feed reader just in case you wanna pour your big heart out. I'll be here.

[mamatulip]

You know I get this.

Do what you need to do, chickita. But don't forget about me, 'cause I won't forget about you.

[Melanie]

OH NOES!

This is not good. BUT. I totally understand.

However, you're staying in mah feeds, woman.

Talk to you soon?

[daisybones]

Maybe you could make it a sabbatical and not a stoppage? Then we could all hold out hope of Return of Deb and you can have the utter lack of pressure that is "maybe."

[bubandpie]

I'm feeling some of this too - only I respond by sticking my fingers in my ears and saying "La la la I can't hear you" to my thoughts. Just waiting for the old excitement to come back.

[jaelithe]

I have often had similar feelings. Given I also work from home, when I blog I often feel guilty in that I know I could be using that time instead to write for pay. Or at least to work on my novel that I might maybe, possibly, eventually get paid for.

All these people who get paid anyway while they sneak off to blog at their office job don't know how good they have it, eh? ;)

If you're gone from blogging too long, though, I might have to move to Oregon so I can stalk you in person.

[mothergoosemouse]

Frankly, I think it takes courage to take a break. And I think it takes courage to write as openly as you do.

This is your space. I'm just glad to be a guest here.

[Oh, The Joys]

I've shifted the way I think about / use mine. It's really a place for me. I'm trying to write down only the things I want to remember - or share with my own family now or in the future. I don't feel pressure to write everyday or at all anymore. If I want to write I do. If not... oh, well. Maybe you can just leave it open... we all have you in our readers anyway. If you write something in three months - we'll be on it like ticks on dogs, you know?!!

[Jenny, Bloggess]

You will come back. I will it to be so.

You, my sweet pixie, are the Belle and Sebastian of bloggers. Genius, wonderous, and vastly undiscovered. You say the words that are in my head only twisted and lovely and perfect and beautifully flawed.

You cannot go. I will not let you.

[Gwen]

You'll always be in my reader, babe. Especially since I suspect/hope/dream/fervently wish that you just can't quit this.

[Mary]

Aw shit.
I kinda liked the droning, frankly. It was done in a fresh voice.
But I understand.
Shit.

[Kristen]

boohiss. but of course, we understand.

just throw us a boner, er BONE, every now and then will you please?

and if you do leave us, can you please take my son's cough with you? seriously.