I’m giving myself the time it takes for my hot tea to turn cold to post a short update. Nearly two years ago, I birthed not only my baby girl but also this blog. Motivated by a hybrid of reasons including but not limited to occupying myself during Mia’s feedings and making sure my husband says to me at least once a week, “I can’t believe you blogged about THAT!” This might come as a shock, but in seven years of marriage, I’ve finally learned to let Clark proofread most if not all of my written correspondence as he is my more dignified and less sarcastic and thus better half. I love you, Sweetheart. But for reasons beyond nursing and marital entertainment, I was sensing that my artistic identity was hanging by a thread. So, as a last ditch effort to keep my right brain off life support, I started logging bits of daily inspiration…. inspiring spaces, creative finds, and some funny stories seasoned with some gut-level maternal honesty. Three hundred posts later, I’m starting to reevaluate my little corner of cyber space. I haven’t kept a detailed baby book for Mia. Therefore at the very least, I picture her years from now reading through this blog and the details of the first two years of her life and saying, “Well, that explains why I need counseling.” What I wouldn’t give to observe my mother’s written commentaries and evolving tastes in trends. It will no doubt insure a laugh or two.
But, I find myself at a crossroad once more. I’ve just relocated to the most inspiring environment I’ve ever lived in, and yet I just spend twenty minutes watching a crow attack a bird feeder as though it were a stranded pinata from Cinco de Mayo filled with cocaine gummy worms. Call it a brush of boredom or a creative identity crisis, but I can’t shake the sense that my inspirational inventory is low and perhaps the best thing to do is lay low with it for a while.
Note: This is not the part of the story where the brooding melancholy threatens to trade in her blog for a book of Sylvia Plath poems and listen to nothing but albums by Radiohead and the Weepies. Nor is it a lamesauce attempt to score a few extra comments punctuated with sad faced emoticons about how cyberspace just won’t be the same without me. I’m just not one to do things unintentionally, nor to leave loose ends untied. I can’t say I’m wrapping up this two-year-old conversation as much as I’m just asking, “Can ya hang on a sec?”
Uh oh, my tea is cold and the crow is jittery.
So…can ya hang on a sec?