It's back...the dreaded writer's block.
Not that I'm some great writer...au contraire.
But writing has become, for me, what yoga is to others. It is relaxing, releasing, and puts me in another state of being.
I have gone 12 days without writing, and I feel like a junkie coming down from a high.
Crazy...who would have ever thought that I would become addicted to writing. But, I am.
What does a junkie do, though, when they can't find their drug? When they can't steal it, purchase it, or borrow it?
This has been my experience for the past 12 days. I haven't figured out what to write about. Nothing has hit me.
Perhaps the following plays a part in my blockage:
It's been hotter than hell here.
There is a raging war in Israel.
Things continue to worsen in Iraq.
Gas prices are not what they were when I first started driving.
Mel Gibson is an anti-semite (ha! big surprise).
Lindsey Lohan should be spanked (although, come to think of it, she'd probably enjoy that).
American Idol won't return for way too long.
I still haven't had a vacation this summer (and won't)
Mr. Cruisin' is still working on rebuilding our patio overhang.
There isn't a good movie to go see.
Okay, rant over.
Can these be the causes of writer's block? Hard to know.
I only know, I miss my drug of choice. I wish I could find it again. I am willing to beg, borrow, and steal just to find my ability to write again.
I guess I'll just have to sit by and wait patiently.
In the meantime, I hope I don't get the shakes, or start seeing little pink elephants.