I only began this blog at the beginning of June of this year, but it seems it’s already time to make changes. And I don’t want to.
But I must. It’s for an ultimate goal. I’ve received several emails from fellow bloggers that I will remember and cherish until I ultimately drive off a bridge or fall prey to dementia. As my By Daily Dying homepage says, I’ve always had something to say – and have been fortunate enough to find so many ears that are willing to listen. Through this, I have become more of myself than I had ever hoped to become. I am, and will always be, eternally grateful.
It seems I will be posting less newer poetry, and more rambling and blogging of this nature. Luckily, I have a stockpile of older poetry to riffle through. It has been called to my attention that if a writer wants to be published, they must not give away the goods. Oh, but how I want to! How harrowing it is to want to be heard, and to have to hold one’s tongue. I am still learning patience.
Changes to WherePleasantFountainsLie and its content will have to be made, as well as to my habits and faulty thinking. When a girl has wanted to hold her own book in her hands for 20 years, it’s high time she did something about it. Even if its scary.
I’m having difficulty with the idea of these changes, for I’ve found such pride in my poetry within these recent months. Not pride in myself, mind you, but in others’ appreciation for emotion, experience, and what I perceive to be as a lost art.
Poetry isn’t the prestigious skill it was once accepted to be, or so I keep being told. Poetry doesn’t make money, they say – or Everyone writes poetry, but no one reads it. I argue that 10,494 site hits says otherwise. One hundred and twenty views a day on average, and three hundred and eighteen on the busiest, must somehow equal interest. And if it doesn’t, an average of 432 comments a month surely does. I have no idea how much an interest this may entail, especially when compared to others. But I’m ready to find out.
These numbers shouldn’t mean any more than just that – the idea of an interest, a pique at someone’s passion, and the proof one may need to pursue their own purpose. I suppose I should be apprehensive about the possible dwindling of these statistics with this advent of change. But when I let go of what I am, I become what I might be. – Lao Tzu
If there is something you must do, and you cannot do it, you cannot do anything else. – Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic’s Notebook.