I haven’t written, again, for a long time. It wasn’t that there was nothing to say. It was that everything I had to say was far too transparent and…well, not useful.
I have discovered, for instance, that it is extremely easy to write about love when one is not in love. As soon as that changes, writing about love on a blog starts to feel a lot like strolling through Grand Central Station in laundry day’s underwear. So I haven’t written about love.
I have also discovered that it is very easy to whine, complain, and muse endlessly about the Muslim community when one does not work for a Muslim nonprofit, and does not meet and greet the same Muslims in a predictable pattern. When I was a moonlighting cafe scenester, it was a mystery who I met or saw or interacted with. Nobody else but me knew how I spent my days. So it was easy to make a comment without 27 other people knowing exactly who I was talking trash about. Anonymity is a precious thing. So, I haven’t written about Muslims either.
So one broken heart and one very public job title later, I’m back. It’s fantastic news for my bank account, less-than-thrilling news for my spent little feelings, and good news for my poor neglected blog.
And now I’m staring at my blinking cursor wondering just where to start.
