Every so often, I am struck with a nagging sense of guilt for letting too much time go by without blogging about the memories that I am supposedly keeping. Self-condemnation creeps in, and I find myself drifting toward the keyboard to try to catch up with writing about at least seven years of the happenings in our family. It is at this point, however, that I am also struck with a certain paralysis of the will – I imagine that it’s much like finally sitting down to scrapbook, but realizing that the looming stack of photographs are all out of order and have to be sorted through and prioritized and…. and…….. *sigh*….. The proverbial shoebox of memories is tucked away once again for safekeeping, but not one step closer to actually being set out for artistic preservation.
I just realized, though, that in some ways, I am a far more active blogger than I realize. In terms of writing witty, sentimental posts about family and memories…. not so much. However, I am forever taking pictures, and regularly uploading them to share with my family and friends. I may not be writing nearly as much as I would like; nevertheless, I am providing a sort of organized narrative about what’s going on in my life, and after all, isn’t that part of the purpose of blogging?
Or am I still just making excuses?
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