lord kelvin
I’ve got to start posting more often. On a whim, I reread some entries from a few years ago, and the emotion from those times in my life wasn’t the only thing that returned around the framework of the words–I remembered how invigorating it was to write, to sit at the keyboard, close my eyes and just let the words come out; to craft and arrange them, to mold and shape paragraphs and clauses so they would project the exact forms and structures I intended in my own mind… I haven’t disappeared from the online world entirely, but I didn’t realize how my recent “exile” in forums and on Twitter felt stunted in comparison with the élan of writing longer posts. Rereading the entries was the bucket of icy water that reminded me of how much I was missing by not investing in my blog.
And yet, every time I sit down to write, the immediacy of the day’s events crowds around and chokes off any hope of breaking through to something that would represent what I really want to write. As soon as I say that, though, I remember my two-month stint of furious blogging a year and a half ago, and how it took me several posts to reach the point where I felt more unencumbered–I think the same pattern applies here. So I’ll just have to stick it out.
…none of which is to say there’s something inherently less or unworthy about writing about the day’s events–those things have their place. Each function of a blog is satisfying in its own way.
For now, though, just a snapshot: I’m sitting in the darkened room of our new apartment typing away. Diane’s asleep on the bed behind me; she’s exhausted after a long day and series of nights battling insomnia. The fan makes the nightly racket on the shelf next to her. Work has been busier than usual, the dust continues to settle around our church situation and the kids grow and grow. Luke got a bike for his 6th birthday recently and we’ve been on a few bike rides. He’s getting the hang of it, slowly. Realizing he could control his own speed, to a degree, by pedaling backward was a revelation to him. He’s a cautious boy and hasn’t trundled along at any speed faster than a slow walk. He’ll loosen up in time; I’m not concerned. Penelope is more lovely every day, but needs to be potty trained, badly. Diane and I are tired of diapers and their attendant rashes and messes. It’s time.
More to come. I need this.