I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I’ve decided to let this blog die it’s slow death, even though this decision makes me feel terribly sad and lonely. I’m taking it as a sign from the universe that I have once again fallen into my same old habit of “over-sharing”.
I started this blog quite a few years ago to spare family members and friends from having to hear my silly stories over and over again (because I love telling stories and just can’t help myself from wanting to share my adventures), but in retrospect I think it was just a way to dodge the ultimate reality that I am an over-sharer. To avoid dealing with this fact, I just set up a pseudonymous blog where I wouldn’t have to feel bad about over-sharing. And where my family wouldn’t constantly complain that I talk too much, haha.
But now I do feel bad about over-sharing, about taking up too much space and too much time with my dumb jokes, terrible writing, and blurry photos of bird butts. I need to embrace reality and work on learning to listen better and share less.
I had a lot of fun with this blog, but I guess it was always pretty absurd, in retrospect.
Anyway, I just want to express my gratitude to all the readers and commenters here on WordPress…I’ve tried over-sharing on a lot of platforms and this is definitely the friendliest and most supportive group out there. Honestly, that’s what always made blogging so fun! So kudos to you guys, you’re the best.
I don’t think I will actively delete my own content (that would be painful after all the hours I spent writing posts and taking/editing/posting photos), but Flickr will start deleting photos after 1 Feb 2019. They didn’t really explain the process, they just said they will start deleting photos from “oldest to newest”, but I don’t know if they will delete them all in one day or slowly over time. Either way, there will be at least 5,000 broken links on the blog soon, so sorry about that.
Bury me with my macro lens.
Yours truly, Lying Down in My Field
So Much of the World
So much of the world exists
the mountain in its own steepness
the deer sliding
into the trees becoming
in the woods’ darkness.
So much of an open field
lies somewhere between the grass
and the dragonfly’s drive and thrum
the seed and seedling,
the earth within.
But so much of it lies in someone
standing alone at the edge of a field
with a life apart
feeling for a moment
the plover’s cry
on the tongue
the curve and plumb
of the apple bough
in limb and bone.
So much of it between
one thing and another,
days of invitation,
then of release and return.
– Gregory Djanikian