Yesterday I published my 100th post on this blog. Given that up until last month I was posting close to 100 per month on the triple combo of my pro blogs, 100 since April seems a paltry contribution to the tonnage of wordage in the blogage, and I’m actually surprised at how many days passed with me thinking, “Nah. I’m wrung out.”
NaBlogPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) is bringing me here every day of November, although I have no idea why I’m finding this challenge so compelling. Blogging every day is not new for me, although blogging HERE every day is.
Not only is it easier for me to take a pass on any given day on Paradise P’o’d than on the Adoption.com site because no one is paying me to post whatever dribblets I manage, and the fact that the only commitment happens to be one of no consequence whatsoever that festers in my little mind, the lack of any specific focus on this blog often stops me in my tracks. It’s never a case of having nothing to write about, but rather of having too many potential topics and not enough energy to pick just one.
I could write about adoption issues every day using this space for angles that don’t fit under news, international adoption or adopting as an older parent, but quite frankly I really need to get away from the subject after pounding out 1500 to 2000 words on one take or another every morning.
I like writing about my family, but I fear that waxing lyrical day after day about how wonderfully happy and content we are in our little cocoon would become dull as stamps for all but a few regular readers.
Tropical living, Seychelles in general and island quirks are fun, but even I’m not interested enough to yammer on daily about fish, the weather and who may be sleeping with whom … the pop-topics in local conversations … and with any luck at all the horrible trauma of recent days won’t repeat any time soon, or ever.
So … 100 posts and counting. So much to say, yet so much of life outside my office calling for me to participate, to enjoy, to get the hell away from my computer.
Note the graphic illustration of the choices as they are presented to me whenever I sit down to write:
Not my office, and only three steps away
The beach at the end of the road