Just Shelley Weblogging

On simmer

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Leave it to Dorothea to help me put the finger on my period of discontent. Today she writes:

I find I have nothing in particular to blog today, at least nothing that I really care (or dare) to talk about.

She then eloquently non-blogs about what she can’t or won’t blog about, such as the goth kitties, gaming, politics, sexism, and even RDF. On RDF she writes:

If I tackle RDF, Burningbird really will spit me for a weenie roast, because I’m mostly not in agreement with her. Besides, I don’t know what I’m talking about and I probably never will, given that many people smarter and more skilled than I am can’t seem to get anywhere with it.

My first reaction to this was to email Dorothea and tell her to write what she wants — even my own editor on the book doesn’t agree with me (but in the nicest possible way). But sadly, I have to acknowledge the truth of what she speaks: with my current edgy mindset, I am highly combustible, and I really don’t want to roast my friends. Except in good fun.

(As for the skilled and smart comment, ha! I kick the butt of the woman who is her own worst detractor. Kick! But I could wish she takes on sexism as she does a goodly job of it. Have no fears, I will cheer you on, brave woman! And if any male does detract from you, does sneer and hint of humor and whine as a dog whines at our feet, then speak out! We women, we mysterious and powerful creatures of weblogging, will stomp him into dusty bytes for you, milady.)

I don’t know if it was my birthday, or the quiet introspection I’m seeing progressively out and about in the virtual neighborhood (as witness Mark Pilgrim’s and Jonathon Delacour’s recent breaks, Stavros/Chris blogging hiatus, the less frequent and quieter postings for most of my friends, and now Mike Golby’s own search for blogging peace), but I’m finding that my time off in the last few weeks just wasn’t enough. I’m tired. I’m dead, bone weary tired. Not depressed or sad — physically and mentally exhausted.

I want to read, but I don’t want to write. At least, not to the weblog. I want to finish the re-writes on the RDF book (and Dorothea will get first crack at it when done). I also want to finish my Post Content tool, the fun things I’m doing with my MT installation, and my web site redesign and reorganization. Then, when I’m done, I want to share them with you but as accomplishments, not as items on my to-do list.

And I want to lurk. I want to visit your weblogs, as King Henry visited his soldiers, cloaked in the anonymity of being just another faceless page hit.

Can one follow a break from weblogging with another break from weblogging? Sure we can, as long as we’re willing to watch our rank in the blogging ecosystem sink like a elephant in quicksand; and to risk returning with a cheery “I’m back!” only to find no one cares.

But it has to be better than roasting friends — flaming them to a crisp — who are interested enough in what we say to disagree with us.

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