I received quite a few private emails about yesterday's post, an old poem of mine entitled Cocooned, and I thank everyone for their interest in both me and the subject matter. Sad stuff is not the usual Sue's News fare, and I expect readers are used to coming away with a more upbeat feeling from my offerings.
The good news is that I am not in the midst of a life crisis (though I may well have been ten years ago, when the sonnet was written). In fact, Dave is retiring in three weeks, one of my sons will be spending eight weeks at home this summer, and another is visiting for the weekend. Credence Clearwater Revival and Three Dog Night are on the agenda for tonight (an outdoor concert), a BBQ is planned for tomorrow, the beach trip will be in full swing next month, and a grandchild's baptism is on the horizon. All is well in my world. And I hope it stays that way for a while!
Of course, me being me, I wound up spending large portions of yesterday musing about my creativity and where it takes me. It's true that I frequently write to inspire myself and others (partly because this blog is meant to be a legacy of thought for my progeny but also because I like to encourage people) so it's not surprising that yesterday's post would seem like a bit of a departure. Having said that, I am the most realistic of optimists, and I do like to get down and dirty now and again. The feeling of hopelessness is not one with which I am unfamiliar, and strong feelings never fail to inspire me. In fact, words and lines flow most freely when I am inhabiting either end of the emotional spectrum: the more extreme, the more easily expressed. For this writer and (I believe) most others, deep feelings fuel the fine frenzy that is writing.
Just as self-absorbed posts (this one, for instance) fuel fierce, fervent fits of f-related alliteration.