I'm in a writing rut.
I have so much to say, express, emote, divulge...and yet nothing is coming out.
At least nothing that makes sense.
I guess this is what they call writer's block?
I'm not taking crazy medications. I'm not any more sleep deprived than usual. My diet hasn't changed.
I'm thinking it is because, for the first time, we are just sort of "living." There isn't impending doom...or a crisis needing to be negotiated. Nothing terribly exciting to look forward to...it's just status quo. And yet, I still have these churnings of emotions and reflections about life somewhere in my amygdala (or hippocampus).
See? It all comes out awkward. Disjointed.
I'm all aphasiatic. (Agrammatism?)
I feel like the majority of my thoughts don't pour out into the form of blog posts anymore.
My mind thinks in Facebook updates, lately.
Actually, probably twitter feeds, but I don't do that tweet-y stuff.
For instance...at the end of the week I made a determination and a revelation on the way from childcare, in part, thanks to Julie Andrews. Not enough to blog about in my usual fashion...but it sort of seemed to dumb to post on Facebook. And yet, I just felt this intense desire to share.
- Do-Re-Mi is hard as &*$^ to sing. I guess you have to span an octave (if my vestigial musical bone is still lurking in my body somewhere.). I actually got embarrassed in the car singing to the boys because my voice couldn't handle the melodic ascent. Miles added lemon to my wound when he told me that I don't sing it as well as his teacher. Thanks, bud.
- "Fa...a long long way to run." Never understood that until the ripe age of 32. I guess Julie heralds from bean town? Why this was never clear...probably the same reason I thought it was "windshield factor" for so many years. Maybe that grey really is blond.
So this week I am taking a break from my usual blogging--every day, posting some of my favorite things. Nothing serious. Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing but some filler until my life gets all jacked up again (it inevitably will) and I have something of note to write about.
Monday's favorite thing:
I own exactly ZERO pieces from her collection, but I would be willing to rent out the boys for a few if I could just get my hands on one of her dresses. (JUST KIDDING PEOPLE!). Especially this one.
Ya know...I'll pay someone to photoshop a picture of me to send to Ms Emerson herself and beg "pretty please with a cherry on top" (you know how far a cherry can go) to let me be a model. This one you cannot even see her face! I would just need some help on the hair front!
The real question is...can you really call something your "style" when you cannot conceivably put together the look from a wardrobe heralding from Goodwill?
If so, this is TOTALLY my style.
Why, oh why does simplicity cost so much?