Multitudes of Charlies. Re-design issues – or, not?

Pontormo joseph-with-jacob-in-egypt-pontormo-1518UPDATE: 3 hours later. I’ve chosen new layout(ish) & design. Hope you like it.

Since my blog re-design, the entirety of which was changing the theme, my hits have plummeted. Look, they’ve never been high anyway except for the one time people mistakenly thought I had naked pics of the Carver twins, so, you might ask, “Why worry?”

Good question.

“Why anything?” is a question I have been asking a lot of late. I’m up in all sorts of air about all sorts of things. Politics – this election is awful. And too, my soon-to-be-supposed-to-be trip to NYC about which I’ve done little to no planning, including bus or train tickets or —

And people keep suffering tragedies and fading or disappearing or behaving in ways I find confusing, confounding infuriating.

And anger keeps coming up in me.

And more WHY than I’ve had since my teen/twenties years – which were tortures of WHY-times.

My insides, my spirit, my thoughts, my all-that-is of me, is a maze of ups and downs and ins and outs and all the mes fighting for their views, their priorities, their way of being, and I am having trouble making my selves coalesce, the multiples of me will not merge, the multitudes of Charlies will not integrate and cooperate.

I am unsure of anything. I try to be okay with that. But recognition of the state of not-knowing requires a great deal of courage and energy. I don’t know that I have that much energy any more.

I don’t know. Much.

But, I do know that as the days go by my life continues to shrink, with which I am mostly fine. Although, as I said at the top, since the re-design, so many fewer hits. I find it odd. All I did was change the color and font, really.

No one said anything. They just stopped showing up. On the other hand, they were showing up without saying anything, too. So, there’s that.

So, my point is – well, I’m not sure I have a point, but I think I need another re-design. And I don’t honestly know what that means.


(I am waiting for the one who gets the Sondheim seeping into my words. I’ve a feeling as I age — if I continue to age — I will more and more quote musical theatre lyrics until, at last, my only response to anything will be to sing a line from a showtune.)

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