When Inspiration Strikes
Sunday, December 28, 2003
When inspiration strikes, it's hard to hold back. When you go from languishing in a void to being overwhelmed with ideas, it's hard not to shout it to the world.
That's the position I am in right now. I have Seasons2 ideas swirling around my brain, including many for a teaser image to post up. But I can't work on it yet; and I can't tell anyone yet. It's like I'm managing the release of a hit video game: I don't want to start the hype machine too early, otherwise it'll peak too soon. Of course, I'm just kidding myself. Will there be any hype? Any anxious expectation?
Maybe a couple people here and there—after all, at least a few people noticed the end of my weblog.
Monkey Grip
Sunday, December 28, 2003
I think my words are more important than they really are, don't I? I think my weblog was more important than it really was, don't I?
Four people mentioned the end of my weblog on their weblogs or sent me a message about it. Four people. After all those years of weblogging, it appears that I have become that old man that no one wants to deal with. Over-the-hill, senile, already at the foot of the grave. Did you do this to me? Or did I do this to myself? What if: I never left ETP? I never changed my focus? I never tried to do better?
I swing between wanting to return to weblogging immediately and returning to weblogging just to spite you. I believe that I deserved better—more attention and more recognition—than what I got. And that's why I languished in the far corner of the universe, isn't it? Resentment so strong that it soaked everything that I did and turned everyone away. Resentment so strong that, even now, I can't let go of it.
I feel like you, as an audience, need to prove yourself to me. It's a lose-lose position for both of us. I need to let go of these feelings or find a way to return in a way that excludes you.