Are you there, blog? It's me, Snarkier Than You...
I've been fixin' to post something here since about three days after my last post (give or take), which means that even by my mighty Herculean abilities to procrastinate like no other human on the planet, this has been a long time coming. I've spent an enormous amount of time since we stopped posting thinking about what to write and how to write it. I still have notes - reasonably handy - for the review of Breaking Dawn II that we never did, among other things, but after so much time had passed my brain always circled back to "Welp, you blew it and it's too late now."
I feel like there was an epic fail in not giving this blog a proper sendoff that would have reflected the love and meaning that we put into it and got out of it over the years, and that's mostly what's kept me from writing anything at all. Because it deserved a full-on party with a 21-gun salute, a brass band, possibly fire and dragon eggs, and we gave you something more in line with an unceremonious backyard burial of a hamster in a shoebox or the flushing a goldfish... Perhaps even worse - we just let it peter out. Anyway, you deserved better. I know that. But you knew that we were the slowest and most unreliable bloggers when you started hanging out with us, remember? The Twi-blogger equivalent of the irresistible "bad boy with a heart of gold"??? Or something like that? Maybe? *wink-wink*
I think at some point it seemed like there was no way I could just sneak back in and write something - anything - to fill the space; it would have needed to be AWESOME. Hopefully you have figured out at this point that I am keeping expectations suitably low. My drafts over the years for writing this look like the beginning of Eclipse, only more contrite and without the cutesy font -
Dean Twitards, I'm sorry...
We suck...what did you expect?!
Fuck this shit I don't know how to do this anymore...
At some point, I realized that part of the problem was that I wasn't willing to pen a farewell because I refuse to let it be over and done. But I also realized something else somewhere along the way: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if I couldn't (or didn't) produce some epic send-off or reintroduction or whatever I am considering this whole thing at this point. It doesn't matter if this is not the best thing I have ever written or the worst or even if there is nobody out there left to read it. I need this. I miss this. This is my outlet. The gaping hole in my heart? Yeah ok I know you all see what I am doing here... Let's say it's a small tear - not so much a gaping hole as a yearning and a small-ish but very persistent and troublesome spot that will. not. be. ignored. Thinking about writing here has been with me like an iffy tooth that you try to pretend isn't bothering you but that your tongue seems to gravitate towards and worry despite your best efforts to do anything else.
I know that the community has evolved and moved on, but Twitarded has always felt like home to me, and dammit, I'm staying even if it doesn't really make much sense at all (and very possibly dragging Jenny Jerkface, Latchkey Wife, and Myg along with me if I can talk them into it for some not-regularly-scheduled posts about who knows what). I'm rusty and can't promise anything will be particularly entertaining... But before I think about it too much and wait another couple of years before releasing the finger that is twitching tentatively over the "Publish" button, I'd better PTMFS.
P.S. Speaking of comebacks, Hellllllooooooooooooooooooothere, Cannes Rob!
I missed you, too...Alle Bilder zum Schutz vor unserösen Abmahnern entfernt!
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