I don't sleep nearly as well these days as I used to (even counting my blogging zenith of 2010-11, where late nights, early mornings and 5-6 a.m. bedtimes were the norm more than they were the exception), and I can't sleep this morning. Lord knows I've been trying to sleep, but it's not happening. I suppose that my state of restlessness makes this song appropriate:
That isn't really what I wanted to get off my chest, though. I've been M.I.A. quite a lot lately, and you all know this, and you all know the reasons why that is, and my absence is plainly and glaringly apparent. It's been bothering me. It's been gnawing at me. I've been the king of this particular mountain for going on six years (with, of course, all due respect to every writer who I have ever had the privilege of sharing this space with -- I wouldn't have made it this far without any of them), and I'm transitioning into a phase of my life where, realistically, I won't be able to occupy that position anymore. It's still bothering me. I'll get over it eventually, and I'll bring in the voices necessary to mitigate that absence, and my presence should, in theory at least, rebound here in the very near future, but it's going to bother me for a while yet.
The other thing that's been bugging me to no end is that I woke up several different mornings last week with every intention of sitting down and punching out something. Anything. And I rifled through the morning stories, and I stared at my screen, and ... nothing. I simply could not conjure up the motivation necessary to create a post. It was a startling realization. Even during those times when I tired of the blogging grind, the motivation, the hunger, the spark, the whatever-you-call-it that drove me to produce content was always still there, and this has been the first time in those nearly six years where it's been missing. I suppose, though, that it all kind of died at once after what happened to the Rangers happened.
I can work through season-long disappointments and early-September eliminations, because, well, if you can see disaster coming from a mile away, it's much easier to properly come to terms with it. I can work through the dejection of unfulfilled October dreams, provided that you don't go down without a fight. What I'm not so great at working through, though, is a finish like that, compounded by the fact that once late September/early October arrived, the Rangers no longer bore even a passing resemblance to the team that looked like a World Series favorite some 5-6 months earlier. And maybe that explains away some of my recent inability to produce even vaguely interesting content.
Or maybe blogging is a young man's game, and I just grew old overnight.
Nah, that can't be it.
But at least I feel like sleeping now. Catch you all later this morning.