I've thought long and hard about this, because I'd been thinking about weird adventures (read as I'd been thinking about running away, but in the sense that I planned to come back), and after a few too many messages last night, I've decided to take a small holiday. I won't be going anywhere, I just won't be blogging, and I won't be on Twitter. Tonight, I'll be leaving for destination Me.
I have to do a couple of things before I can go, and one of them is this: I have to get my goodbye written. That's important, since I'd only started with a couple of features on my blog. They'll continue when I come back from being nowhere. I already have a couple of posts prepared for both Photographic Memory and Friday Friend, and I'll be putting them up in their own time.
Another thing I have to do is get a couple of videos up on YouTube, because they're a bit overdue. Particularly one of them that was meant to go up at the latest yesterday - the video for The New Book Club. Thankfully, I've already announced the August book, so people won't be waiting for that. The other video... well, I can't remember what it's about, only that it's for my own channel.
I have to set up an auto-tweet thing, too, to keep my reviews circulating for a bit. Two links a day, I think. I'll let you know when I'm back, don't worry. As if you would: I'm just a stranger on the Internet who shares too much information. I'll still be using Facebook, so my friends won't have anything to find worry in. My holiday isn't from them, it's from this, and from Twitter and YouTube and anything else that means I have to be someone else because I'm not allowed be myself; apparently the fact that I like talking about friends isn't good. I'll still be keeping on top of the Literary Den's Summer of Writing 2010, and if I'm not back in a couple of weeks I'll still be blogging for the Den, or finding someone else to do a guest post for me - and I know someone who might - and that'll be that.
I also have to send an email, before I no longer have to represent a visage. Or, you know, wear a mask. The email is important to me, but not specific to me.
While I'm gone, I hope to do a couple of things:
1. I plan on going on a solo day-trip to discover something about myself.
2. I want to get the second draft of Meet Sam finally done.
3. I want to get a submission ready to send off.
4. I want to write a few articles/blog posts about music, because music is this ultimately life-changing experience for me, as weird as that sounds.
5. I want to reclaim the threads of sanity I once told people I still had - read into that what you will, but you're probably wrong, because you don't know me well enough to make assumptions about my mental health, you only get what I give you.
6. I hope to do a lot of reading and write but not publish reviews for the books - I have many books that I need/want to read.
7. I want learn a thing or two about a thing or two.
8. I want to get my sleeping back into line without having the added worry about what people I've never actually met think about me.
9. I want to work on a photo book to maybe print for myself.
10. I want to see a few friends and have a good long talk with them, because there are things that haven't yet been said.
I don't know how long I'll be gone. I hope I'll come back, anyway, because, like I told Ferris, my blog is important to me. But if I don't come back - if I don't resurface to tell you all of all the wonderful things I've done while I was away - then I want to thank you for joining me on this wonderful journey, for being there for me, for talking to me on those long nights these past months, so innumerable. If I'm gone for more than a month, if I don't reappear by September, consider me gone from this blog until I can something worth saying that isn't an invasion of my friends' privacy - which I've been told is a very bad thing that I've done, despite not really revealing all that much about my friends.
So, without further delay, because the night is running out, I say farewell, dear reader. And remember, the pen is mightier than the sword.