Impermanence

We did not exist, the we we thought we'd always be.

- Catherine Lacey,  Nobody Is Ever Missing

People get old. So do websites and blogs . . .

I've really, really disliked my old website for a zillion years. In fact, I planned to replace the website with this blog more than a decade ago. Now this blog is older than sin too . . .

After this post, I plan to unpublish my old website even though it almost breaks my heart. It's ugly and outdated to a humorous point, but has tons of information gathered and placed over almost two decades. Perhaps I should leave it up as I craft a new site because I'll likely send some bit of information into the cyberspace ethers that I wish I'd saved for posterity. Sometimes when decisions loom, I can't seem to make these in a rational way. Hence I tend to engage in some radical cord cutting. I can't seem to do anything halfway, like leaving well enough alone until I build a new website. The old one screams defunct and can barely be managed due to web browser improvements.

I've been dinking around for months - actually, about four years - with plans to build a new website, a site with a blog this time. Not a neglected blog with lots of collateral info like this one. I need a nice, modern site with a minimalist feel and just enough info to make my wordwhacking life seem contemporary and relevant even though I've partially retired from the writing, editing, and publishing biz. 

Sometimes I just want to be free and retired and not think about words at all. But there's still enough ink and pixels squirting through my bloodstream to toy with a project or two. I hope to finish at least three books in progress (my own) and I also occasionally take on a book shepherding or editorial project for clients via Starstone Editorial. 

I feel sad that I've devoted so much time to US politics over the past seven years, but let's blame that on fascist tendencies unleashed into the world from our very own democratic republic by the former guy, 45. I had to stand up and say a lot of things since his campaign started in 2015, mostly on Facebook and Twitter, but sometimes here, too. I probably wasted a chunk of my life preaching to the choir, but at least the universe knows where I stand, right? 

Anyway, you'll notice I changed this blog name from Jellyfish Day to Wordwhacking Dreams, because for a long time, my writing life has been little but a dream. I kept the subtitle about jellyfish and sundogs because those are still relevant [Note: but decided in July 2024 to dispense with the subtitle, but the early posts about jellyfish days is still there, as is the corresponding sundog post]. Anyone who reads my posts from the beginning will see why these matter. Everything in the universe matters at some level, of course. 

I miss the jellyfish photo that my youngest daughter took, but I also like the blooming saguaro cactus arm that looks like an extended hand, "hand" since my wordwhacking daydreams currently drift amidst the iconic saguaro cacti groves in the mystical Sonoran Desert. [I wrote this  probably intending to add the saguaro banner photo that I use on X-itter. Sorry, Elmo. 

At least there's that to daydream about, right?

Part of me really wants to remove any trace of my existence from cyberspace and just move on into mysterious obscurity. But the truth is, I still have some kick in my kicks and still need to put some food on the table - and Miss Tootie's dog dish - so here we are. Our Tootie-Do Press titles are still available to readers at multiple international book emporiums. 

When my new website is up, it will hopefully not chase away potential editing clients, as I fear my old website had. When the new site is finished, I'll likely put this blog to sleep as well, but will leave it up to link to the new site. 

Impermanence is poignant and painful. Change never stops. My Cancerian emotions cling to stability and tradition. I don't know how to let go even though I've had to let go of many phases and stages in my life. As I head toward my seventieth birthday this summer, I'm a lot less certain of how to approach this stage of life. The empty nest phase of the past decade has been difficult for me. I should feel free and ready for senior adventures but feel wistful for the family life I cherished, routines that kept me so busy that I had little time to think about anything deeply except when I wrote about it.

I should write about that!

Maybe I will. 

I've been playing lately with a bit of poetry, which is where I started in this writing life . . . writing poetry is definitely inspired by my wacky, wordwhacking dreams . . . 

 

You'd never guess that a freeway exit ramp is on the other
side of that wall! Phoenix, Arizona, Summer 2021