It’s been nine days since my last post. My output has dropped from at least twice a week to…well, to who knows what. I did think about stopping, either permanently or at least until something worthy of comment happened to me. That would be the easiest thing, I thought. But then I’ve never been awfully good at the easiest thing. Instead I revert to type. I analyse. I work out what has caused the slow down in output and try to figure out how to fix it.

Well, what has caused my uncharacteristic silence is easy to identify. Nothing to write about. Simple. But then I have to ask why I have nothing to say. My life hasn’t been particularly devoid of excitement over the last week or so. In fact it was my birthday so that alone could normally generate a least three decent ideas. It is true that after 313 posts there is a danger of revisiting old ground but let’s be honest, who is ever going to notice except me?

So, my analysis continues, if life has continued apace with plenty of material to go at, why have I not sat down and written anything? Lack of time? I don’t think so. I waste masses of time. I can always find a slot to put pen to paper.

Confusion strikes me now. I have subjects to write about. I have time. I have written nothing. Why not?

Of course, I know why not. My personal soul searching is just a thinly disguised attempt to take myself to places that I don’t want to go. I know exactly what’s wrong. I write loads when I’m feeling either:
a) supremely self confident that what I publish is witty or thought provoking or both and will elicit a positive response from those who read it; or
b) I don’t care whether people think it is or not.

Ergo at the moment I feel neither of those things. When you start to worry about what people say or in my case, don’t say about what you choose to reveal in such a public forum then suddenly it becomes too difficult to do. I fret about how my words might be misinterpreted. I harbour concerns about the impact that my public laundry service might have on those that I love best. Sometimes I even worry what my mum and dad might think.

And then suddenly there’s no spark, no devil may care attitude and no blog!

I like to blog. I like that it makes me organise my thoughts into some kind of coherent argument. I like the record that it is forming of our day to day life which will be there when we have all forgotten what got us steamed up. But most of all I like that I can say what I think without fear.

So I need to ditch the worries or it won’t work. I need to rediscover the me that doesn’t care what others think on the basis that if they hate what I write then they won’t bother reading it. Most importantly, I need to remember how to not take life too seriously. So please stick with me. Normal service should be resumed shortly.