Final NaBloPoMo post...for now

This morning, as I awoke into the half-light, I was beset by gremlins and remnants of dreams. I'd dreamt of endless bus rides, broken up by transfers in bleak corridors. As I tramped towards an overpass, I saw a man with young children who was a dead ringer for the Resident Fan Boy when he was younger and I descended to the platform to wait for the next bus, weeping for my lost youth.

Actually, very few of my dreams are so clearly about what is going on in my life. Most of them are confused, illogical, and just plain weird. Not unlike me, I suppose. I could write them down and apply Gestalt Therapy to them to determine their meaning, but that's so seventies...

This morning's dream doesn't really need any interpretation anyway. Obviously the uncertainty and worry of choosing a middle school for younger daughter is weighing on me. We've seen two private schools: one is attractive and easily accessible by transit, but it may not be a very good fit for younger daughter's particular blend of social and learning deficits. The other is a three-bus-commute that will take a two-hour bite out of younger daughter's day and a four-hour bite out of mine. It's rather grim and will cost twenty-five hundred dollars more than the other school, but seems to be aimed at students like younger daughter and is recommended by the developmental psychologist who has done two of her assessments, including the latest one. We can't really afford either, but we can't really afford to abandon younger daughter into the special hell that is the public middle school.

Anyway, this will be my last post with NaBloPoMo, at least for now. It's certainly been an interesting exercise in forcing me to write the equivalent of a short essay every day. My readership has gone up, although I harbour no delusions of grandeur about that. According to my site reader, most visitors stay less than a second. A depressing number of them are looking for that photo I posted of Princess Diana (with my fifth cousin India Hicks, name-drop, name-drop), let her go, girls..., and every winter, the Alice Munro short story "How I Met My Husband" is evidently a literature requirement in learning institutions across the eastern half of the United States. Others are really looking for Post-it Notes in various colours and shapes (including "rude-shaped"). Yesterday someone entered the search term "girlfriend wants to be tied to posts and gagged - youtube", but that's not exactly representative...

However, more and more, over the past six months most of the search terms have been variations on "post-it notes from hades", so dare I hope some people are searching for me? During this NaBloPoMo month, there have been more links to my blog and a few more regulars.

On the other hand, I'm not crazy about being a slave to my blog. It seems a good chunk of my time over the past four weeks has been spent planning and composing posts. I think my comfort level is about two posts per week. It's been instructive to push past that boundary for a while, but I need to get back to actual living and trying to accomplish things in a more tangible environment. The house is a mess, for one thing...

Will I try it again? Possibly. Hard to know when. Having tackled the shortest month, the logical next step would be one of the four "thirty days hath". April is birthday month madness; June is end-of-school insanity; September is beginning-of-school hysteria; and November is the beginning of the slippery slope to Christmas.

I'll think about it. In the meantime, I'll be checking at NaBloPoMo to see who's posting there.