Blog Fail

alarm clock

 

I love this blog, your blog, and the utterly fabulous GBE, but for the past few weeks, I feel like I’ve failed, well, pretty much all of the above. Mine, yours, and it.

Did you ever have that dream where you’re underwater and as you struggle and fight to swim up to get a breath, the surface keeps getting further and further away? No, me neither. I never have those falling or drowning or dying dreams that people talk about, but I do feel more than a little underwater right now, and I know what the problem is. It’s time.


Yeah, I know. We are all allotted seven days each week, with each of said days consisting of 24 hours. I’ve even written about this very thing to stress the importance of prioritizing—and maybe to ward off the whining that often accompanies time-crunch talk. But here I am, treading water and trying not to get sucked down into the dark murky shit where the creepy things live.

And failing miserably.

Last week, I read only some of the GBE posts. I make a point to read every one, every week. After all, if I’m going to head up a blogging group, the least I can do is to make my way to each blog and give a few of my minutes to every person who takes the time to consider the topic I offer and then pours themselves onto paper the screen. It’s not too much to ask—it really isn’t—yet, last week, it was.

I fell way short.

In addition to botching my GBE responsibilities last week, I also missed reading heaven knows how many of my regular non-GBE favorites. I lovity-love-love those bloggers and their blogs. Love them. Yet I ignored them. Hell, I all but ignored my blog, and it’s my surrogate column. It’s where I can laugh and cry and encourage and bleed on paper the screen, all of which I love doing.

It’s my crack and I’ve been doing without. I’m sure you can understand my discomfort.

On Thursday, I introduced no one, though I really love doing my Meet the Bloggers posts. I blinked and it was Friday and my Friday was pretty much spoken for, too. Admittedly, these past few weeks have been busier for me than most, but even on regular weeks, time zips past in a freaky blur.

For weeks now (or has it been months?), I’ve been a sporadic visitor at Facebook. Oh, I pop in most days, but that’s about it. I peek at my wall and answer with enormous gratitude when I see that despite my more-absent-than-present recent self, there are those who still stop by to leave me some love. After that, I head to the GBE page, approve new member requests, scan the page, smile at the wonderful interaction I see there, and clickety-click on a few links. Before I sign off, I try to visit a couple of friends to see what they’ve been up to and to let them know that I’m still sucking air, and then poof! I’m gone.

Here’s the thing. Twenty-four times seven equals one hundred and sixty-eight. I had one hundred and sixty-eight hours last week, but they somehow filled up so quickly with other stuff that all things blogging had to stand with their noses pressed against the window, hoping for even a wave of recognition. That wave never came.

I have a few questions and I’d really like blunt answers. I’m not looking for pats on the back or assurances that my rudeness isn’t rude, because rude is rude is rude. I’ve been rude, and for that, I’m truly sorry. I’ll try to do better. I will do better.

Okay, the questions.

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