Six more weeks of posting

Hello? Is anybody there? Can I open my eyes? Is it safe?

No, your tenuous grip on sanity is not slipping-- I didn't post yesterday. And, might I add, I'm happy to see that the world as we know it still seems to exist. That means I can hold off sending out those tote bags for the foreseeable future.

I know that my daily posting is a subject probably only worthy of comment in my own mind, but I've let myself become obsessed because I'm trying to use it to help build my writing habits, and I'm wary of slippery slopes and the power of temptation and all that. That being said, I'm going to try not posting this weekend, to recharge my batteries after a long week (possibly helped by a free Slurpee today).

Hopefully then I'll be back with daily posts of some sort, at least, as I try to work out some kind of schedule that allows me to focus and produce higher-quality material interspersed with conversation posts and other such amusing trifles.

I just know that if I was to start regularly holding off posting each "good" post for a day, and spend more time editing and crafting it, I'd be likely to start deciding that each one needed another day* to be really good, and I would then either take an extra day (or two) to make each one better or, more likely, put off doing anything with it in favor of whatever else in the world came up that was not what I had planned to do. You know how many mostly-written posts I have cropped up in my Drafts folder that I can't stand the sight of because they feel like a chore? A lot.** But I need to overcome my reluctance and weak stomach to get to rereading and revising things more, or I'll never get any better.

So in the meantime, I ask you all to read my posts with a grain of salt, however that works physically, and see through the extra crud and tangents for what the end product would be if I took more time and if I read through them more than once. You'll find the quality of this blog rocketing up immediately with that filter applied, I hope (depends on how vivid your imagination is).

While you're at it, add a liberal dose of deliciously snobby literary allusions and deep metaphysical insight, leaving me something just short of a typical Black Hockey Jesus post at The Wind In Your Vagina. Yes, I suppose that is what I now aspire to-- silver medals are just as nice.

Or at least that's what my mom always told me.


* Read: the portion of the day I get to spend doing such things.
** See, I'm so drained I don't even have a trademark witty*** exaggeration.
*** Witty as defined by me, while in the Love zone of my love-hate relationship with my self.

Editor's Note: Until I actually receive a silver medal, I'll have to console myself with this very latest surprising recognition.