Bloggerationality Boo

I've tried blogging, and not blogging; the latter mainly because I don't want to make the time to write well, and I don't like doing things not well. However, I am learning: Not well is better than not at all.

I'm learning this from creative friends who don't let time be a major constraint -- if you don't have time to do it really well, then use the time you have to do it well enough -- and, even yet, from my job, where schedule is king, and, so long as perfectly in line with requirements and schedule, good enough really is good enough.

Of course, to make that happen I've been putting in some long hours. But that still doesn't leave me time to do it well enough for me.

Sometimes I see that there really isn't enough time anywhere to do things truly well enough for me. There's a word for people like me -- starts with a P and no one really admires them if they don't meet deadlines.

So. What is this about? There's a melancholy attached to the feeling of not sharing enough of life with people and friends. It's similar to the melancholy alluded to in my comment on the recent post with a link to party pix. Something about combinations of social need versus actual interaction (which at work is not sufficient), with my particular form of hypergraphia thrown in (not really hyper, but I do like to write and do have a tinge of hyperactivity "disorder"), and/or desire to share the countless pictures I take, every one of which tells a story. I hold back on almost all of it - and then I remember.

That Roy once (long ago) suggested I just write a little every day, if it makes me feel better. I have to my detriment ignored that advice, not wanting to put out in the universe a whole lot of pointless blathering, but though I indulge in that sort of self-limitation all the time it doesn't really serve me or anyone.

That if I like it, I should do it (whatever it is).

That my friend Mark passed away yesterday afternoon and no one will ever again interact with him, no more attempts at humor, no more sweaty hugs, no more angst about this or pure joy in that, no more ... no more anything but fading memories.

And as life is short and sweet and fragile, I need to remember not to be so got dam serious, not to hold myself back, not to let the multivarious influences of my formative years STILL hold sway and tell me not to do this or not to do that, but instead do; and quit with the documented ADHD tendency to find things to worry about just because they provide a sort of structure. I can build structure out of people and creative effort; I don't need to do it with private walls and subconscious rules.

Yeah. Go me. Well, it's a lifelong effort.