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Meta Me

Blog-wise, I’ve been a low-achiever. It’s being busy at work. It’s the cold weather. It’s the dread of staring at a computer screen with no idea what to write about. It’s the lack of a niche topic. It’s the suspicion that I’m posting to an audience of porn-seeking Googlers and Yahoos. It’s the necessity to write things too personal to tell the world. It’s living in a boxy apartment in this turtle shell called Natick. It’s being too exhausted by the state of politics and society to get angry enough to rant. It’s hormones. It’s my iron-deficient diet. It’s the drop of my coffee consumption to two cups a day. It’s the monotony of the commuter rail. It’s the lack of cats, kids, a home, and a car. It’s knowing everything has already been said. It’s the fear that no one cares. It’s the fear no one understands. It’s that so much of life happens in my dreams, and it is all as incomprehensible as crayon soup.

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By Meredith – January 26, 2007

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