Image courtesy of http://garfieldminusgarfield.net
According to the Google Analytics, my readership has gone down 33% in the past few weeks. That's because I have not written anything of substance for several weeks, and the few entries I have published have been met with scornful, bitter, vitriolic disbelief (I'm looking at you, Christina).
Here's the really weird thing, though. I didn't blog not* because I was too busy being sick or working or having WAY TOO MUCH fun, and I didn't not blog because I was trying to spare the sanity of the people who had been following my blog when I had been writing every day (although maybe some of you appreciated that, yes?). I didn't blog because I ran out of things to say.
For some reason I spent a fortnight not wanting to write. Or rather, not feeling like I had anything to write about.
Dry spell is over, kids. Welcome back to my head. And if by some chance some of that 33% never returns, like maybe I broke their hearts, good riddance. Those of you who are reading now, now I know who my real friends are.
I was being histrionic for humor's sake. Did it work?
Anyway, today I spent a romantic evening at the beach with my dog. And I'm not being sarcastic, either. I have forgotten what pleasant company I am (Sego's not bad either). It's been a while since I have done something nice on my own. Riding the bus to work doesn't count.
In fact, I had planned to go to a showing of Shakespeare in the Park, but I went to Richmond Beach SALTWATER park instead of Richmond Beach COMMUNITY Park, which until today I didn't know existed. They really ought to consider re-naming one or the other. By the time I figured out my mistake, the play was halfway over, so I stayed at the beach, read an amazing book and watched the sun set. It was perfect.
I had planned to go to the play with a friend, but she was sick and needed to rest. I texted a couple of people at the last minute and asked if they wanted to go, but no one was available. In the end, though, I'm really glad I went alone. Had I gone to the wrong park with someone else I would have felt obligated to make it right. But me and Sego can enjoy ourselves pretty much anywhere ... especially any beach. I love the beach.
It's funny, the older I get, the more I relish being independent and alone. I always assume that as I grew up and continued to be unmarried, that I would become more and more desperate for companionship of any sort and less inclined towards being alone. Quite the opposite. The older I get, the more I enjoy only having myself to answer to when it comes to how I spend my time. You know what I feel like doing today? Going to the beach and reading a comic book. What did you do today?
I doubt I will ever learn to love my independence so much that I would choose to be alone rather than get married. However, sometimes I worry that I will be hurt so many times that I will stop acting on my feelings and lose all chances at happiness. Sorry, that was edging towards the dramatic again.
There was some connection I was making while I was sitting there on that bench overlooking the ocean, some connection between my love of being alone and experiencing beautiful moments by myself, and the inability I have to keep someone around me long enough to want to stay, but now that it's dark and I'm at home I think I just sound like a crazy person.
I was thinking about the quote listed above, I believe, and how I have always felt like it was written for me. I love everything in the universe and everyone who enriches my life so much, sometimes I worry about running out of steam. Or, I worry that my love is poison and drives people away, because so many people I have deeply loved have screwed** me over in the end. However, I have convinced myself that it's really just a numbers game. If you love everybody you meet, eventually some of the bad ones are going to get in there. Maybe it's even more likely. Whatever.
One thing I do know for sure is that although some people may think it's sort of overwhelming, the amount of affection I throw at people like Mardi Gras beads (for less than what they cost there, even), I doubt that it's ever going to change even though I sometimes wish it would. I have never regretted anything I have done, only the things I was too scared to do.
Know what I really think? I think the moment that I am really really happy with where I am and have resigned myself to happy hermitic spinsterhood, if that's what God likes for me, that's when some jerk is going to rumble in on a vintage motorcycle and mess things up.
I hope this post was more entertaining than a series of photographs.
*Or, "I didn't not blog?" Which makes more sense? Oh gosh. I'm rusty.
**This was originally a different word, but so far my blog has been F-word-free, and if I do break that streak I want it to be for something really really good.