Yeah, yeah. I know what you’re thinking, but trust that I don’t make new year’s resolutions. But I’ve been thinking about this lately, and why not now? I’ve finally just accepted that there’s not going to be a good time to start writing again. I’m not going to wake up one day and suddenly not have a thousand other things to do that are usually more important and sometimes more enjoyable. Having something to say, knowing what it is, and stating it to the best of my ability — currently three separate and equally difficult tasks — those aren’t magically going to become one instant flash of reflex again.

I can’t wait for that to happen before I start writing again, because that’s a whole chicken-and-egg thing, and tangentially, the whole concept of the chicken-and-egg problem just irritates me. Some random molecules somehow managed to organize themselves into a functional unit called a cell, somehow managed to survive and replicate and gradually mutate into even more functional units called organisms, and a few kajillion generations later there was a chicken. That, or one day somebody said ‘let there be chicken.’ Either way, the answer is neither.

The point is, I’m also not going to reverse the process of becoming less and less interesting to my own eyes, day by tedious day, by simply sitting around and waiting for something to happen that will never happen unless I put some work in. I’m going to have to talk about things that are important to me, or avoid doing so by talking about things that are interesting or amusing to me, knowing that eventually I’ll get back around to the important stuff. Not that there’s anything specific I’m avoiding right now other than the ennui I’m currently laboring under that I’m either much too young for or at just the right age for.

Anyway, to close this out the way my comebacks traditionally have, which is clumsily: I am indeed still alive. I’m just fine, actually, though I can’t explain why I’m not really as happy as I was those few months ago, or as sad, or as angry, or as anything. This despite living in a house I really shouldn’t be able to afford, having much nicer toys, and finding myself disliking my job and the people around me less and less. The only thing I seem to be more is tired, though for once in the physical sense only.

So I’m just going to hop back into this and see what I find out, and I’m going to do so with no more fanfare or introduction than this, and relisting the site at Dave’s place, though I honestly don’t know or care at this point if anybody still pays attention. Which brings another point to mind, I don’t think this will any longer qualify in anyone’s mind as a blog, though I make no, and have never made any, promises about what it will be. There’ll be talk of what I’m currently doing and thinking, and if things keep happening to me that make me think of how funny they would be if only I were at more of a remove from them, probably those kinds of stories as well. But expect nothing more than words, and you shall receive them.