I’ve always fancied myself as an adaptable sort of person. Now I realise perhaps that thought is more an aspiration rather than reality.
Yes, I’m bad with change. About a year ago, I faced a personal obstacle. Petty and trivial in the cosmological scheme of things, but it was emotionally hurtful and draining to me. For a year I wallowed in self-pity and pain. I neglected so much of what would normally be dear to me: family, friends, and perhaps the odd rant on this blog.
So many things I wanted to write about, here and at the group blog, and so many times I just gave up. Crazy religious fundamentalists, idiotic forum letters, mindless comments from the blogosphere, all popping up like prairie dogs waiting to be shot down. I didn’t write.
Would it make a difference if I did? Would I be able to change people’s minds? Change the way things are done? Change anything at all? I don’t know. There is an element of cost-benefit analysis to this public punditry. If I can’t make a difference in doing what I do, then why do it?
Not giving up or anything. Yet. I’m just sayin’.
