I've no impetus to write anything at all. Not for here, not for personal use, not for scholarship application essays. It's not so much writer's block as it's writer's...uh...I have no idea. And that's the problem. For some reason I'm having a tough time lately finding words. That means that I use idiot fillers a lot. Words like totally, absolutely, frankly, very, quite, just, whole, and junk like that. I know that when words like those pop up more often than they ought I'm in the throes of a dumb period. Normally, I can snap up words that I'm satisfied with without too much effort. But now? But now? Nada, peeps. I dig a little and find that there's no more digging to be done. I'm without depth; I hit the bottom, and it's illustrative of a blank mind.
I generally keep a little notebook with me that's labeled, Incomplete thoughts I mean to write, and in it I scrawl bits and pieces of daily thinkings. That's not the case these days. I haven't opened that little book in weeks. I'm not sure I even know where it is.
If I felt like putting blog-worthy updates together I would probably tell you about the box I made for Rabid to celebrate 10.10.10 (she has a thing for special dates) and how the giddiness I felt when making the box is something I don't feel often enough; I need to make surprise boxes for more of my loved ones because it makes me happy. Forget about them. I make those packages for me.
If I were in any kind of a writing mood I would tell you all about Jessica's visit. That's right, my online Jessica came for the weekend with the intention of helping me wrap my head around Quicken and put together a budget. She was successful. I am digging Quicken and sticking to my budget. And we had oodles of fun. I love having my people as guests. I have the best people.
If I could find words I would cryptically tell you that like a bolt of lightening the concept for this year's holiday card came to me. It's going to perfectly reflect my sardonic sense of humor.
I would tell you that my mom and I just finished working on the cover design for her book, The Mourning Run, and I'm so excited to get a few printed copies in my hands that I can hardly stand it.
I would most certainly go on and on ad nauseum about my yoga practice. It's great these days. I'd tell you that tonight I executed a new arm balance that I've been interested in for a while, so Power yoga's going pretty good. And I'd tell you that within the last couple weeks three of my yoga teachers--Bikram and Power--have complimented my practice, and if you want me to fall in love with you all you have to do is tell me that I have a beautiful practice. Do you have favorite compliments? You know, the ones that give you a head-to-toe energy rush of delight Well, one of my favorite things to hear is a yoga teacher telling me after class that I have a beautiful practice. Those words exactly. I remember every single teacher who has told me that and my blustery ego takes it to heart, helping me to work even harder to add grace to my postures.
I would certainly mention that my doctors and their staff rock. Yes, rock. I call on some terrific physicians and am grateful as can be that that is what my job is made of.
I'd bore you with details on my dog's mouth. She had her dental exam a couple weeks ago and it cost me a bundle. If Writing and I had a functional relationship right now, I'd absolutely bemoan the fact that the insurance plan I chose for her is the one that doesn't cover routine care and will therefore not reimburse me for any of the dough I dropped on her dental deal. I've been cursing myself and trying to dig through the bowels of my memory for the reason I chose that plan over the other ones. Kicking myself for that lack of foresight. (The problem very well may have been that I'm an insurance idiot and when I chose the plan I probably had no idea what I was doing.)
I would tell you about the Saturday I spent with Aunt Sue and Uncle Mickey and that it was the best Saturday I've had in a while. I'd tell you that I adore those people.
But I'm not feeling compelled to write anything at all, so I won't tell you any of that.
10 comments:
So glad we didn't have this conversation.
Sounds like you need to shake things up a bit. Maybe you're too comfortable in your life, which isn't a bad thing, but the best writing comes from experience. And hard times. Starve yourself for a week, and then you'll be sure to have a "Wasted" masterpiece on your hands.
I'm only half kidding.
Megan darling, schnookems, hunnybunch, I miss your word scrambles. Or whatever you called them. Remember when you created a cool graphic out of a bunch of words that sparked your interest at that particular time? Perhaps those will help?
WTF? You could have written about my shocking departure from the food blogging world. LAME.
WTF? Whitney just used "WTF" in her comment.
I think you should write about Quicken and how much you love it. That's at least a three-part series.
"WTF" stands for Whitney Tells Fibs.
Not that other thing you thought.
Whitney tells fibs is what I thought she meant. What did you think I thought she meant?
Oh, pardon me, I was assuming you thought it was Where's the Fun.
Ah, a common misconception. I often interchange the two. Spices things up a bit.
If you ever need help with quicken (locally) just let me know. If you need a new copy when a new version comes out remember that Edric works for Intuit and gets them dirt cheap! We also provide this service for Turbo Tax and quickbooks.
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