I totally feel like a whiny little toddler right now. A toddler that hasn’t had a nap. A toddler that is pissed because I have a shadow. A toddler that does not understand what homework is or why it is so important to sit down and write. I don’t care that I enjoy writing, I don’t wanna! I don’t care that it is therapeutic for me, I don’t wanna! I don’t care that I’m awesome at it, I don’t wanna! I don’t even care that I have a million (And 9) fabulous stories that I really want to get down on paper, I don’t wanna!!!!!! I wanna curl up in my blankie, suck on a cuppy full of juice (okay wine) and NOT write.
Writers block sucks.
*slowly rocks beating head against desk* I have so many funny things floating through my head and cant. *thunk* Get. *thunk* Them. *thunk* Out. *thunk**thunk**thunk* Is it possible to serve your thoughts with an eviction notice? Can I add to the order that they must exit in an organized fashion? How do I even put into a paragraph the fact the District Attorney should really re-word his opening statement? (Who uses the phrase “I’m going to touch on a few things” or “let me know if I didn’t touch something” for a first degree sexual assault case?? Bad form dude) Or about teaching my amazingly sarcastic son to drive? (oh! Look! A kitty!)
Story telling comes natural to me (usually) but it’s like I can’t separate anything out of the big knot of yarn that is swirling in my skull. The more I tug at it the worse it gets. Of course when I lay down and try to sleep at night all the thoughts come swirling around me like the final fight scene in “Ghost”. I feel like that weird kid that always messes up the joke. I’m bursting at the seams with punch lines but can’t lay out the hook.
Maybe I need to be drinking more, or maybe cleaning less, or not so slammed at work that I can’t even think. If you need me, I will be throwing a full out temper tantrum to the beat of “Summertime Sadness” about the fact that August-Specific Depression is a real thing. And is apparently also responsible writers block.