(This post starts as one thing and ends up as something else. I’ve let it stand, as opposed to editing myself.)
I’ve been beavering away making some bibs for the Craft Fair in DulwichÂ on Saturday. I’m piggy-backing on my friend Jo’s jewellery stall as I did last year, so I imagine we’ll be being very badly behaved and tasting all the delicious cakes (I hope the cake lady is the same as last year – they were amazing, and she introduced me to the delights of edible glitter).Thoughts that have occurred while I’ve been busy:
- This room is no warmer than it was in the spring.
- 4OD is great, because it has an archive of shows from forever, so I finally got the see the Devil’s Whore, and made myself a new hero in Edward Sexby.
- I have a lot of fabric in my drawers that I’m probably not going to use and should have a de-stash.
- I fiddled with the blog layout again, and wish I could findÂ the colour green I used about four years ago, rather than the slightly odd green that looks fine on my mac, but not on my PC.
- Signing up for nanowrimo is so so so optimistic, given that I’m three days behind already.
- I don’t really know how to reconcile all the different parts of myself into a coherent whole at the moment.
I confess I’ve often thought of stopping writing here lately.Â My landscapes have changed since I started blogging in 2007, and I don’t know if this space suits me anymore. I keep fiddling with the blog’s layout too, because it’s just not comfortable, and each time I’m happy for about 36 hours. Perhaps I did everything the wrong way round, when it comes to writing, blogging, making, having a child. My instinct is to stop and start again, but where would that get me? At the beginning again. WhereÂ I love to be, happily master of none of the things I take up. I really fancy learning Norwegian, for example, which is really just part of a wider interest in norse myth, old english and the experience of North, and being Northern. But where does it fit in?
Elizabeth wrote of creative people who have a keen urge to pursue more than one discipline. Perhaps the nature of blogging means that I’m stopping myself from experiencing more pure joy in following my interests because of the tramlines I made for myself with the title, or the notionÂ that I must write about everything here, and then stopping myself doing things or writing about them because of some odd idea thatÂ they aren’t suitable. I’m not good at compartmentalising. Maybe that’s it.
Perhaps the whole thing is best summed up with the trouble I have choosing a twitter name. In the dark history of the internet, you chose an avatar and a pseudonym, keeping your real identity a secret, since the internet was full of Wierdy Geeks. If I was just one thing, or had just one website, then it would be easier to settle on a name. I’ve flipped back and forward from one thing to another, causing confusion and delay, not least to my own sense of identity. This week I realised it would be much easier to tweet under my real name, since this is the only way that I can safely encompass every part of myself, and everyone is on the internet now anyway. But my name is taken. Where to now?
Should I end this post by making excuses for myself? Blame it on the darkness? Blame it on a lack of chocolate? No, my friends, I think not. No more excuses.