There are a lot of changes happening over here in Haiku of the Day land, the blog re-design (ie: me taking five seconds to choose a free template and upload a picture), and the switch from Typepad to WordPress (ie: me frantically emailing a friend with a message of HELP ME I WILL BUY YOU BEER AND TACOS) are the most insignificant of the changes, but new nonetheless.
The large and small of everything else is that my husband and I are amicably splitting up. Everyone made fun of Gwyneth for talking about conscious uncoupling, but really, when you get down to it, that’s not as ridiculous of a phrase (or a concept) as you might think. The conscious uncoupling is in process, and while it will be good, it is a… transitional time right now.
There are obviously a lot of feelings and thoughts and musings and ponderings and more feelings and extra feelings and outsized feelings with feelings of their own, but (ironically?) I don’t feel like I can really talk about any of it right now. Out of respect for my family this needs to be a quieter time. There are a lot of things I will blab to the world about, but right now it’s better if I don’t do that. Sometimes, keeping the outsized feelings inside is ok, too, at least for a little while.
Life is upside down and surreal. I have three books under contract, a new apartment, and every day is just a whirling mass of never sitting down and always making lists and trying to write and never stopping with the feelings.
I am not going to stop blogging, but as I’m sure you’ve seen (or not seen, but have maybe just now noticed) there hasn’t been a lot of blogging in a long time. There are just too many books to write and feelings to manage. This is not to say that I’ve lost my voice, on the contrary, I think it’s growing stronger and more confident every day.
So even though blogging is very late 20th century, and even though I have about three readers left, including myself and a robot scouring for ways to sell CHAEP VIAGRA FOR YOU MENS, I am not planning to stop. I am just taking time to breathe. It feels like years since I’ve taken time to breathe, like I’ve been climbing down from a 28,000 foot peak, not realizing how low my oxygen level had gotten. Now that I’m closer to sea level, closer to eye level with the rest of the world, my breaths are not these shallow gasps needed to survive, they are deep toe-touching, soul-expanding gulps. I am going to keep breathing. And I am going to keep writing. And I am going to keep in touch with this blog, and with you, I promise.