Answering an email this morning about Tim Farrar’s FFDD, I found myself wondering where time flies. Gone are the days when I could afford to go stroll aimlessly around the Seawall at sunset, night after night, hunting for the one stunning sky that only HDR could render, and then going back home and spending hours at the computer processing and developing lovingly. Gone is my time to write when I feel like it, because I feel like it. I’m neglecting the blog and my creativity is at an imposed all time low. I miss the Little Cayman days when there was basically nothing else to do after work but go play with a friend’s pets, drink, or create - often all of the above. Everybody around me is happily blogging and engaged in a commenting ballet, reading right and left, networking. I can’t keep up. I’m not sure I even want to. It has all become so common, vulgar at times. Soon blogging is going to replace reality TV, feeding people’s morbid desire to peek into one another’s nightmares and dirty secrets. I don’t want to be there when that happens. Or is it too late?
