Contemplating the Last Focus.

Ever since the distressing events of two Fridays ago it seems I’ve had nothing to say and no will to say anything. This is a problem because writing things to this blog has been my primary focus for some time.

I’ve had a primary focus most of my life. There was the fishing focus, the classical music focus, the history focus, the photography focus, the theatre focus, the fiction writing focus, and so on. The focus wasn’t usually the thing I spent most time doing, but it was the thing I most thought about and wanted to get back to whenever I was doing something else. It was the thing that drove me. And however insignificant the writing of a blog might seem to other people – especially since it’s never brought so much as a penny by way of pecuniary reward – blogging has been it for the past six years.

This is why I hope the condition is temporary. I have plenty to do at the moment, but there is nothing currently in my life or on the horizon that comes close to achieving the exalted status of primary focus. And it’s worth bearing in mind that I never chose my focuses; I might have chosen my activities, but the focuses chose me.

I suppose that’s why I’m writing this post. It’s being written for my sake, not anybody else’s, as most of them were. A blog of this sort doesn’t – or shouldn’t – aim to teach or preach or set the writer up on a podium. It’s essentially a reflective exercise, a medium for self-expression and learning with maybe a slight nod to entertainment thrown in. I do realise that the musings of one little guy sitting in a little house in the middle of England really don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

So can I give it up? I don’t know, and maybe I won’t have a choice. That’s the usual way with focuses: one day they leave and never come back. And everything might change tomorrow.