I’ve been doing a lot over the last several weeks. I’ve been adding new commitments one by one to get ready for a return to the world. In that time, I realize that I’ve left off blogging.

Writing this blog was never intended to be a commitment or a drag on my time. Originally, it was an outlet for me to keep writing when other types of writing had failed me.

Now, as I restart those other types of writing, I figure I have no time or headspace for writing a post in this blog. That makes me sad. It is a sense of perfectionism that keeps me from writing here. It’s as though I had created an unwritten rule for myself that unless I had something really burning or really specific to say, I should not say anything at all.

And yet, how much blogging have I done this week in my mind?. I wanted to write something about how sad I was to vote this week and still be a full year away from selecting a new president. I wanted to write about how fucked up things are in Pakistan, the one country in 2003 that did have weapons of mass destruction, links to Al Qaida, and a dictator. I wanted to write about my trip to the East Coast and about how strange Cinder has been behaving since I returned.

But because I have been feeling like any post had to be like a finely crafted meal instead of just letting who I am come out in my writing, I’ve tricked myself into writing nothing at all.

The commitment I have in this blog is not to my readers, but to myself. I think any personal blog is like that, or should be.