Yesterday was nice. It was like any other day, and I made a conscious decision to take a break from blogging. I went down to Target to buy some mouthwash and walked around the mall looking for Harry Potter patches at the behest of the wife — our oldest daughter got a denim jacket and so the wife was thinking to make it even cooler, but at the end of the trip I decided that Harry Potter is just enough in the rearview that you can’t find things like this on demand anymore. I also picked up a couple of vinyl records because I’m becoming something of a vinyl nerd now — AC/DC’s Back in Black and The Jimi Hendrix Experience BBC Sessions, pressed on sweet orange vinyl. While we own quite a bit of vintage vinyl already, I’m not above purchasing new albums either. After all, you can’t guarantee you’re going to run across these albums in the one amazing underground vinyl shop that you actually have access to, and they have so many more that you can grab at a steal. It’s no crime to shop online, but don’t forget to support your local businesses, people! The best deal isn’t always best for your community, and it doesn’t get you face time either.

I’ve been rolling around in my head this idea that I was going to write a post eventually crushing on my new turntable, maybe post a YouTube video about the difference between that one and the one I tried to make work, a YouTube video and post about cleaning your vinyl, etc. But I’m not riding that train today. I actually sat down, looked at the prompts. Thought, ‘why do I come back when it’s always a few days in love and then back on the struggle bus?’ Frankly, I felt that sinister urge to walk away again, because in a world that often seems a morass of multifarious content, I hate having to beg the Universe for inspiration. It feels utterly ironic that one should have to.

What started out as a way to fill extra time and exercise my writing skills has long felt like one of my many abandoned hobbies — I come back for a hot minute and then life steals me back. I Googled, “does blogging have to feel like a job?” and I rabbit-holed for a bit, and realized that I can do better. If I want to do this I should do better.

I enjoy writing poetry, although I feel like I’m beating haiku to death. I did enjoy writing fiction, although I feel that well has run dry a while ago. I can spill my thoughts on the page any day, given an appropriate subject and the willingness to opine; but unfortunately this is unprofitable. Indeed I can write a poem on a Burger King napkin and get the same satisfaction. Or I can just rant to myself in my own head, work it out, and experience the same catharsis.

I’m too old to think I can forecast what life will be like in a year. I didn’t do that last year and I’m not doing it now. But we may find this blog evolving as I attempt to find . . . incentive? If what I’m reading through the aforementioned Google search is true, then it’s not too late to do it right and find a way to free one or more people from the shackles of their labors, and it all starts right where I’m standing. I’ve still got decades on my plate and I feel l could get the ball rolling in a handful of months, if I work on it. I have some stairs to climb, and I’m going to deck them out my way.

All this to say, I’m not going anywhere, but I can’t say what next year’s going to look like.

I’d have said the same thing last year.