There are some things I love.

I love dogs (especially mine); Wild, the memoir by Cheryl Strayed; walking in beautiful surroundings; lounging around in posh hotel lobbies; Dwight Yoakam; Led Zeppelin; the local bowling alley bar; shopping; having lunch with my mom; taking road trips with my husband; sitting around a campfire; cooking yummy food; hilarious physician dictation screw-ups in my medical transcription job; doing artsy-craftsy stuff; parades; farmers’ markets….etc.

There are quite a few other things I don’t love, which I won’t go into right now.

This is a big reason I haven’t been into blogging lately and have even cut down a little bit on my Facebook postings. Lately I feel like the things I don’t love are upstaging the things I do love, and the old axiom about not saying anything at all if I don’t have anything nice to say looms large in my mind. It doesn’t always stop me, but it still looms large.

It’s not even that I don’t have anything nice to say. I have a lot of nice things I could say, but when it comes to writing, small talk and niceties aren’t often my milieu. Blogging about the personal stuff I’m wrestling with right now, though, feels like oversharing. Whining on Facebook about tangible evidence of my struggles just feels unproductive and unwelcome, especially in a venue where people mostly want to see more cute kitty pictures and feel-good mantras.

I’ll get back to you when I have nifty things to report.



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