On Giving Up

I seriously considered NOT blogging anymore. I felt, and still feel, that I'm just writing down words that no one ever reads. And, frankly, I feel too much like this already. I talk and few people, if any, listen---that is really listen to what I have to say.

I just watched "The Jane Austen Book Club" for the first time. I've been wanting to see it. It was okay--not great. But it made me jealous for that group of people who were willing to make the time to get together regularly and talk about books. Well, talk about anything. Really care about each other. I don't have that and I want it.

At church on Sunday morning is about the only time I actually see my friends and then I'm just limited to only a few abstract sentences that don't really mean much. I like these people, my friends, and sometimes there's time for a little more gut-spilling, but mostly it's all surface chatter. They all have active lives and no time for such silliness as discussion groups. It's sad really. Am I the only one out there who would like this?

I have a husband. My husband is very intelligent and talks on a much higher plain than I am either able or willing. So we do speak, but it's usually about business-type stuff dealing with the house, car or some other uninteresting thing. If he brings up the physics he's studying, I'm sure he notices my eyes glaze over. Same with him if I start talking about feelings.

And I have a live-in daughter. She's really great to talk to. She offers great insight--sometimes I don't like it, but she's usually right. I get the feeling more often than not that she really does care about me. But she's at work all day and tired after battling traffic on the way home. She wants quiet and not to be bothered by a clingy, lonely, pitiful mother. And I don't want to drag her down. I don't think it's a child's place to keep a parent happy. Still it's nice to feel her love.

I miss conversation. I don't mean I want to be talking all the time, but once in a while an intelligent discussion about something interesting would be nice. So to blog and have it not read by anyone, or at least not commented on, is just very unrewarding. But, yet I have decided to persist. If nobody reads, than I'll consider it a bit of a diary.

Maybe I'll start a book club if we ever sell the house and actually move to Madison.

Maybe it'll be a Ken Follett Book Club. Or maybe Maeve Binchy?