Dear blog, please forgive me for neglecting you

Why do I feel a twinge of guilt when I think about writing in here? (Or think about NOT writing in here, which is what I spend more time doing. Uh, not doing. Whatever.)

I am a writer. I do believe this is true, even when I'm not writing. I wish I were writing more, but that's another subject. Blogging is an entirely different animal. I'm not so sure anymore that I am a blogger.

The whole putting-my-life-out-there-on-the-Internet-for-anyone-to-read thing has become more unsettling over the past few years. I used to barf it all out there without a second thought, but time and circumstances have made me more cautious. So that's one reason for my blogdentity crisis.

So I changed blogs and tried only posting casual, daily stuff. Less hey-here's-my-deepest-thoughts-and-feelings type of stuff.

And that's when I really stopped blogging. Maybe I just can't do this kind of blog. And really, nothing against those types of blogs--my friends write them, I love reading them, but I just can't seem to write them about my own life. Maybe (probably) because I overanalyze everything. I'm an overthinker and an overcomplicator, and that doesn't fit well with casual blogging. Maybe.

So now instead of blogging about my pensive thoughts or blogging about my daily life, I've been blogging about blogging. How lame is that?

So forgive the identity crisis of this space. I think that's why I have kept the "Under Construction" banner up--this blog is still in process, still deciding what it wants to be (hell, IF it wants to be).

So, like the construction signs you see up in grocery stores or other places of business, I would like to thank you for your patience as you pardon the dust and mess. I hope there are at least a few of you still reading. Thank you for stepping over the yellow tape and stopping by in spite of the disasterishness of this area.