It has been a long spell since I've last written in this setting. We just had an election. I had thought it was, perhaps, that I had forgotten how to write of anything of any meaning. I just wasn't feeling it. I still don't. All anyone heard from me was showing up on Facebook, or in my daily conversations at work.
I've come to a different realization. I didn't run out of things to talk about. I forgot about living - or life. I'm feeling rather empty. Whether someone is listening to me or not, I need to speak and not just be about listening. I've got a right ear that doesn't want to give me anything to hear but a lot of hissing noises. I've learned that the world moves past us and we get used to the daily evils and noise that surround us and forces itself into our lives. They're like these hissing noises that stay continuously in my hearing day in and day out. You just get used to it - except the moments when it becomes an annoyance. The annoying times is when I need to write.
When it comes down to it, I'm still just hanging here. The spirit of adventure, if it ever existed, seems spent. I'm not certain if this is just me or if this is something that every person goes through at some point in their lives. You know there are things that are important, but you're just not sure where they fit into your life. I can't say that I've had a full life because I haven't. I've been capable of so much, but have restrained myself from taking chances. A coward? Perhaps. I like to think of myself as so introverted, and lacking ambition for personal acclaim, that I just never took the steps along much longer and more treacherous paths. Then there are those wrong decisions. I know we all have those.
I have little to write about simply because there is so little experience upon which to mine material. I don't have children. I haven't made great adventures around the world, or even across our nation. I have been relatively healthy to date - realizing just now that I've jinxed myself for the rest of it. I have seen what other more talented people can generate on these blogs and I have to say I can't quite keep up with them. But, this isn't about competition. It's about filling the world with thoughts and ideas and my personal hopes.
I have my work, but I can't say people at the office are too fond of me writing about that. So I don't. It does kind of become hard to keep a title like 'Dallas Trees' if speaking honestly about their condition can be a negative in the work place or to the public I serve. Whether it's about forestry or not, I'm constantly editing myself to prevent hurting someone's feelings. I don't see that as a character flaw, but it doesn't serve me in any journalistic effort. There's a line I don't cross.
I'm going to try to jump on the wagon again and see where this goes. The articles may be few for a time while I gather my voice, but I owe it to myself to reinvest myself into my world again. I cannot let fear dictate the terms of my existence any further. Life is short and those final days are getting closer by the day. I hope you will give me some feedback from time to time. It's refreshing.
I need to fill these days. I need to share them. I need to do much while my ear continues to hiss at me, and before that annoying sound - and all other worldly annoyances - become an eternal silence.