I’m beginning to understand this thing called a “lapsed blog.”  It’s when someone with all the best intentions — and perhaps prodded by people purported as “friends,” who encourage such good intentions — fails.

Fails.  Fails.  Fails to live up to promises and intentions.

What I’ve found in lapsing my blog is that I’m not nearly as interesting, or as opinionated, as I thought.  I’m not an expert on anything and simply, I don’t have that much to say.

Blogs should be for the “talkers” among us, but they are so busy gabbing and socializing and going to parties because everyone loves being around them because they are so entertaining, that they’d never find the time or the inclination to write anything down but the phone number of the cute dark-haired guy with the accent.

I’m more of a listener than a talker.  I’m not interesting, opinionated, or particularly wise; therefore, on all accounts, I should not be expected to accept the nearly impossible mission of maintaining a blog.

And so, a blog lapses.  It goes untouched, dwindling to nothing but a nameplate in cyberspace, and yet, it’s unlikely anyone notices because, well, because no one subscribed to it anyway.  It was just another blah, blah, blog.

Another reason that blogs lapse is because sometimes the blogger is a freelance writer and writes something that’s funny or poignant, and that’s good enough to sell for cash, which is, by the way, what freelancers do.

Or sometimes, the blogger goes for a particularly long walk with her dog and gets caught up in the beauty of nature and lies on a wooden bench to look up at the cloudless sky and watches seagulls rise and swirl and drift in the air currents of a soft, summer blue marred only by the haze of smoke from the fires up north.

And sometimes, the blogger, unable to view the computer screen because of the reflection of sun and sky moves inside and sits on the leather sofa in the cool interior of the front room.  And sometimes, a rivulet of sweat begins to tickle the backbone and slide to the tailbone, but being in the midst of an important blog posting assignment, the blogger continues, despite the heat of the laptop burning her upper thighs.  And slowly, slowly, she feels wet ooze on her earlobes and acknowledges that she can stop now because her brain has begun to melt.

But still, dedicated blogger that she is, she continues.  The neighbour calls 9-1-1.  The fire siren sounds.  A ladder truck is dispatched from the nearby fire station.  An ambulance comes, too, because the blogger has done what so many before her have done.  She has spontaneously combusted.

And that, is how blogs sometimes lapse.

Consider this blog lapsed — at least until September — when the weather becomes more condusive to being inside talking to yourself.  (My weekly column, by the way, is also lapsed for the summer.  Cha cha!)

© 2012 Sue Farrell Holler