Draft

It was late, and now it is early, and my backspace key is still getting more attention than all the others put together. I have fifteen drafts lingering here. Fifteen drafts waiting to be published. Posts about music, Charles Dickens, Gary, public washrooms, my childhood best friend, class, Audrey Hepburn, global positioning systems, and who knows what else. I have a vicious case of writer's block, and I cannot seem to shake it. My own personal writing book is full of squiggles and incomplete thoughts scrawled in frustration. I truly do not know what to say; everything comes at me in fragments. I am capable of focusing on one topic for about four lines, and then I lose inspiration and motivation and my next thought crashes in and takes the old one out at the knees. Usually the only time anything even remotely makes sense is when I am alone in nature giving my notebook a thrashing, so you can imagine what this mundane bland phase has done to me. I have nearly gone entirely insane instead of just my usual seventy-five percent. Finally I woke up and decided to make today different. It was a crisp Fall day, and I chose to spend it alone with my notebook and my camera by a lake. I was surrounded by a plethora of autumn-hued trees, and for the first time in months everything finally seemed still. I perched myself on a hidden bench, and let everything hit me. All Summer I was a bit of a robot, allowing myself to slip into some state where feeling anything at all, decision making, or doing something the least bit constructive were things that existed... I don't know where really, but someplace very far away. I became a bland nine to fiver who only looked forward to my after work nap and or a lunchtime dollar drink.  I laughed as I wrote that. Who knew a large diet coke could bring so much joy. Not me! I don't even like soda. I sat on that faded bench, and let myself think about the last six months of my life. They were not a dream, but a reality that gave me new thoughts, goals, and interests. So I suppose I'm making this (whatever the hell I just dumped on this page) a declaration of sorts. A declaration that I am back in fulllllll force. The quirky, bizarre one... yes, her.


...and just so there is something of quality on this page I leave you with this.

“There is a wisdom of the head, and... there is a wisdom of the heart.” - Charles Dickens

Thank you, Sir.