“Writer’s Block” is the excuse for the languishing of this blog over the last year or so; more accurately, I do not make the time to sit down and post as I once did. Part of the reason being that I have reached a point where I feel as if I repeat myself (which is annoying and boring, regardless who does it), but part of it is also that I genuinely do not feel “the urge” to write as once I did.
Oh, sure, I can sit down at a moment’s notice and whip out any number of creative bits; trouble is, it seems a lot like distraction from the day to day enjoyment of doing things other than writing. This, for me, is really quite new; once upon a time, I don’t think I could go a day without writing SOMETHING. Today, well, as this place attests, that has definitely changed.
In fact, about the only thing that continues to surface in my mind and demand that it be written about is the one thing that I now steadfastly refuse to indulge. Without too much detail, it’s all but ancient history (nearly seven years now?) and I am annoyed that it continues to present itself at all. For the most part, I push it down and insist that it wither and drift away… until it does, that’s all it’s going to receive from me.
Slow going, really. Frustrating. I wish I could understand what it is about “all that” that set such a hook in me. Or where it lodged so I could get the scapel and have done with it once and for all.
Unfortunately, that’s not how it works it seems. So, a blip of reference followed by the now habitual shove back into the depths.
What else to say? Life is good, J is still his amazing, beloved self, the cats are now our four-legged, furry, feline alarm clocks (promptly at 5am, thank you very much) and, other than the usual intermittent angst on aging, all is well.
ObHaiku:
Boy, does life go on
The years now pass in a blink
But the smiles? Never.