Hi. I’m still alive. I don’t suffer from any psychological disorders (that we know) and so my silence this week isn’t indicative of some sort of psychic break. I haven’t been hit by a bus or diagnosed with anything scary. I haven’t been so so so so so busy that I can’t find time to do my favorite thing, which is write.
In fact, I’ve started TEN blog posts in the past three days. Some of them have been sad (cancer is shooting deadly laser darts at so many people these days) and some of them have been funny (I got far too competitive when my children "boo-ed" people in the neighborhood). Some of them have been perplexing (what business does Amazon have selling sex toys?) and some of them have been whiny (I didn’t like my time in the Army Ten Miler this past weekend). But none of them have been interesting. And if I’m writing them and they’re not interesting, I am most positive you won’t think they’re interesting. I just haven’t clicked with myself. (I could make a funny Amazon sex toy joke right now, but come on. My mother-in-law reads this blog.)
I’ve been bummed about being in a rut. I went to an open house this week, in which I sat in on Jack’s reading class. His group was reading Houndsley and Catina and poor Catina wanted to be a writer and sat and wrote and wrote and wrote and finally Houndsley told her she was a terrible writer. I sat my big butt in that little chair and wanted to cry in solidarity with poor little misguided Catina. "I know how you feel, you crazy cat!" I wanted to sob. "I can't write, either!"
Anyway, Whit told me it’s rude to just stop posting things when I’ve posted about five times a week since March 10, when I started this blog. I countered that my writer’s block is uninteresting. He countered that it is akin to ignoring your friend just because you’re having a bad day. And I don't want to be rude. Or tacky, but that's another post entirely.
So, sorry. Really sorry. It really sucks that everything I am writing this week really sucks.
Maybe the fact that one of the preschoolers pulled down his pants today and peed on the playground equipment (in front of ten visiting parents) will seem like good blog fodder tomorrow. For now, I’ll just laugh on the inside.
And if you actually read this far, and if you're actually wondering why I haven't posted anything this week, then I might actually love you. Like love love.