MOSTLY-DEAD

I have relocated my Logophilia prints to Imagekind, and in the relocatin' I have become a part of a great little network of "artists." (You know why the quotations are there: I don't see The Self as a real arteest.)

This nest of creators is great for encouragement. When one of us posts a new piece we all get right to commenting on it. "Great contrast!" "Interesting composition!" "This series is really working for you!" "Amazing work!" Some of the compliments are worth remembering, others not so much. I've cultivated a few rewarding relationships on the Imagekind site and I've discovered some truly astonishing art.

And the other day an interesting message from another artist/member landed in my Imagekind inbox.

Subject • your work

Message • wow, I only just started to read what you have written. I can only say wow. You reach down into the heart of things. Expressing what I can only assume are true feelings. I can only bow to your honesty and willingness to place yourself in front of the viewer. Wonderfull work. --Sam T.

I read and reread and was quite confused.

My response • What I've written? I do write, Mike, but I don't recall putting any of it here. (I could be wrong there; that happens more often than not.) Are my words floating around somewhere else? My mostly-dead blog? I just don't want to take an incredibly kind compliment that's not mine if'n it ain't my words you're readin'. (But if the compliment does end up rightly belonging to me, I'm so printing out this message to hang in my office.)

Good things,

Megan

I still haven't heard back. Maybe my message was offensive. But since I sent it a few days ago I've been thinking about my mostly-dead (which is slightly-alive, you know) blog. How sad. I gave this space three-ish dedicated years. I'm not sure it was worth my time, but I did serve up an honest portrait of The Self. And I think I enjoyed doing it.

Now, however, I am sort of afraid of this space. It goes like this: I am in school working on a writing degree. So I've conditioned myself over the last few months to think that if I have anything worth writing about I need to use that material for essays for school. And if that's the case then I've got nothin' to put here. So I may as well let the space dwindle. I'm not sure I see a way out of that.

And then there's the time issue: if I'm blogging it means that I'm not doing something else and even money says that the something else that I'm not doing is quite important. Work-work, school-work, attention to husband and doggie, yoga, and such. Those things deserve--require, even--my time. This blog does not.

Or does it? The message from Sam T. got me thinking . . .