This blog is getting to be an increasingly dusty corner in my realm of self-expression. Not for lack of thoughts so much perhaps as surfeit of lived experience -- it's been a tense, busy and to some degree dramatic few months in my life, intertwined with the lives of others. Plus the old laptop has more or less succumbed to the clogged arteries of its maxed-out memory, with attendant browser issues, and I finally swapped it with the aged Compaq that has languished in our bedroom for some time, on which I'm typing now. The Compaq's capabilities are sadly dated, but after dumping the accumulated video games installed by my spouse for our six-year-old (the machine's main purpose for years now), I find it at least boots up in under a minute, and achieves internet in an acceptable timeframe as well. Waiting 20 minutes for the laptop to go live was a big deterrent per blogging, particularly since it also had a tendency to freeze up randomly. Poor old laptop. And my day job hardly gives me time or mental space in which to ruminate.
So the Confessional has been closed for repairs, pending major rennovations. And the number of sins I choose to confess dwindles in proportion to the likelihood that these sins are real rather than imagined. The day's minutiae doesn't fascinate as it once did (and I confess, Facebook has been more than adequate as chronicle of inconsequential trivia.) Plus the Confessional seems a little dowdy to me now in some way -- can't quite define this yet. The Usual Suspects don't entertain and inspire me as they once did, but it's not as if I've been taking all my cues from the Economist either. The splitting of blog themes onto multiple discreet platforms didn't help, in the end -- I thought I'd please my readers by removing the church gossip to another realm, but thereafter became less inclined to commit my church thoughts directly unto print. The poetry and visual art blogs are seeing a bit more action, though output is in short bursts of intensity.
Much has changed, and yet there are many constants exhausted of their nuance.
I'll check in again when I care a little more for this product, or find a new motive.