It’s been awhile since I wrote for the sake of writing. I mean, I feel as if every post has to accentuate some eccentricity or flavor of wit or burning outrage, but I’ve been shying away from just writing off the top of my head. I have felt the need to give everything a wrapper. If there’s a hidden meaning to something, it’s as if I’m making people guess what that is.
It’s the age-old fear of judgment. There are probably a trickle of new readers to this thing, a result of my willing porting of these posts to Twitter, which, in turn, now update my Facebook status. So even those who would never have bothered to see my Facebook imported notes cannot escape my status updates, which, more often than note, contain Tiny URLs to these Toastiest posts.
I don’t know if it’s clear, but I certainly feel as if I have not found any solid footing in establishing a purpose of this site. I know, I don’t need a purpose. We’ve had this discussion a dozen times before. I don’t imagine this will ever not be about a hundred different things, but I do wish I had something consistent that was also useful.
I listened to a story on NPR the other day about a veteran of the Iraq War who had over 30 surgeries to try to mend his badly-burned body. Who the hell am I to write about how, ooh, I’m going to have a fourth surgery within a year? My suffering is so minor and pointless…but, then again, it’s not. Because most people my age who live in Durham, NC and haven’t gone off to Iraq haven’t had any surgeries recently and probably could say at their Thanksgiving table, “I’ve got my health”. My suffering is minimal, and yet I do not know what it is like to be healthy and for my worry to be minimal.
There’s much more I need to say. But I’m still sitting at work, and it is a lousy feeling to still be sitting here. I need to get out of here. I am here late because I did have work to do, important work to do, at least in the grand scheme of my job. Oh, my job…yeah, yeah, in this economy, I should be lucky to have one. I’m sorry…it is impossible not to feel some disappointment, because I did not spend earlier years of my life thinking I’d be spending so many years doing THIS. I truly had a sense that I would do something important in this world. Yes, I know, there’s still time. You must understand how much I want to believe that, and yet, I know my best scenario may be that I just get to do this for a long time.