Well, here I sit. I sit here with my shot of Crown Royal Black, my box of Original Vegetable Thins, my laptop and the TV playing the movie ‘You’ve Got Mail’. Oh, and drowning out the sound of the TV is the sound of thunder. That’s why I can’t put music on…my kids might be up any minute…scared. Hopefully not, but one never knows. And even with this seemingly utopian existence, I sit here disappointed. Sad. Forlorn. Why? Because the best intentions I have don’t seem to work. I have to write. So what do I do? I don’t write. I have ideas. So what do I do? I don’t expound on them. Why is this so difficult? Rhetorical question, so please don’t answer. Maybe I should just stick to writing my journal, and feeling sorry for myself and my lack of interest in actually writing anything of consequence. And along with my journal, I can post something on my blog that may or may not reach the readers. But wait. Hold the fort. Why on earth should I stop? (Rhetorical, don’t answer). I can write, I’m just not motivated. But I need to look inside of myself and admit that I write not to make money, or to change the world…no, I write because I love to express myself in the written word. I love to manipulate words in such a way that whoever reads it can smell the flowers, feel the touch of silk, hear the crashing waves, see the wind blow and understand why two people have fallen in love. Yes, that’s what I have to work on…not because I have to. But because I want to. And because I can. And I will.
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