So...change.
Over the past year or so I've been asking myself several questions, chief among which is why am I carrying around all these failed projects? Why do I have a plastic bin of cross-stitch projects started decades ago? Why do I have this stack of scrapbook paper? Why this file drawer of half-completed stories? Why do I have all these unread books? I might have argued that these were in reserve against just such a time as this, when I was continually at home and unable/unwilling to go out into the world at large.
But really...they're beginning to function as a reminder that things can't/haven't/won't be able to go back to "normal." The person who started that story or began that book had no idea what the next few years would bring and the story that was started is completely irrelevant to now. I can barely read three chapters at this point, much less create and organize a narrative.
It's time to stop.
I've enjoyed having this blog (until very recently) and it seemed weird to just leave it without a goodbye. It's been a great project and let me, for a time, be a poet, which was pretty cool.
Goodbye and best wishes,
Chrissa
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