It finally dawned on me – realizing that I’m a horrible blogger is completely freeing. There’s not enough time in the day to do it all, as it is. Let alone compose a beautiful and thoughtful blog post. And people rarely head over here to this neck of the woods (which is actually a poor expression to use as someone evidently did threaten to strangle me, according to the Sheriff’s Office which has contacted me twice about the matter, and I do live in a neck of the woods which many seldom visit, and I’ll stop writing about necks now,) as it is.
What I really want to write is a novel; a roman a clef filled with backstabbing intrigue and drama.
What I actually write are letters, 99% of which are dry business letters. I write Bulletin Columns also, which are variously compilations of teachings, reflections, updates on Parish news, etc.
Meanwhile, the photography bug has died down within my spirit. It’s still there, but I can only do so much with my time, even waking up at the crack of dawn to fit it all in. Because of all the papers.
Paperwork has become my bane. It wasn’t always this way – and it’s certainly not going to remain this way. For now, it is what it is. And it’s a lot of papers.
I’l leave you with this compelling scene from Menotti’s “The Consul“. My friend Karie sang it with Menotti conducting back in the day when we were all that. She’s one of my favorite people actually, though I’m “conservative” and she’s “liberal”, so we really never talk much. (In fact, the same can be said for a lot of my music friends.) Life happens, and I was never really all that. This isn’t Karie in video; YouTube didn’t exist back then.