I was watching a fairly low budget horror film yesterday in my last night before renewing my exile (currently Doncaster where I hold sway over a cheery group of trainers during the day and by night relax in the heavenly Angel Cottage). The premise was interesting if not exactly new: a group of friends (amazingly 30 somethings playing, yes, 30 somethings, bucking the trend for screen teenagers with crows feet and flecks of grey in thinning hair), on a holiday in the middle of the wilderness disappearing one by one. It held my attention for a while.
I looked at my blog and noticed that I too seemed to be vanishing, piece by piece, year by year. This is my 7th year in residence in the land of blogs, a fantasy plethora of lands and domains where the thoughts, ideas and creative splurge of many can be thrust out kicking and screaming to be feasted upon by the many, the few or none.
I enjoy the process but year by year my creativity and the creations can clearly be seen to be diminishing. I’ve been lost in a routine of work, rest, work, life’s mundane crawl swallowing me piece by piece and didn’t take the time to let myself breath, creatively speaking.
I also note that I’ve been here before, trying to get my fire going again amidst a shower of promises which I don’t manage to fulfil. So this time I’m going to hope rather than make a bold statement, lower my own expectations and try to build up my online self. I may well spout words lacking of wisdom or full of beauty, I may fill the cyberness with literary waste or rare hidden gems. But please if I fall into the void again throw me a rope and I’ll try my best to climb back up.