I've been on an accidental hiatus. From blogging, from biking, from caring, from life. I don't know why. That's the problem with these things. They sneak up on me and then suddenly I find myself on the couch for the 30th day in a row (I exaggerate, but only a bit). This type of thing usually only happens in winter, the old SAD, but, for me, not even perfect summer days could lift my spirits. But, then things got better. That's the solution with these things, happiness sneaks back in and plants itself right back into my little brain. And now, every day, I feel like I am waking up from a long sickness. I guess that's a good thing.
Sometimes I can't help but take on the problems of the world. I can't help but find my job unfufilling, my life lonely, and television depressingly bad. Then, I realize that I am trying so hard to find my inspiration, direction, and purpose that I am forgetting to live. I know that sounds painfully trite, but I think it's true.
In these times the blog suffers, the fashion suffers, the waistline suffers, and the bike is truly a beautiful sculpture; only for looking. Okay, if you have to dust your bike, that really should be alarming.
But, if Richard Simmons can cry on the Ellen show, then certainly we are all entitled to a little time in the blue.
The one thing that pulls us back from the brink, in any form it can be found, is hope. And, I've got a little.