More of the same

Every time I bring up my blog page, I feel a pang of self-disappointment in that I don't write often enough. Then I begin writing, and the stuff I write just sucks. That's when I realize (one of the reasons) why I don't blog as much as I used to; it's because I don't blog as well as I used to. Sometimes, it just doesn't flow. Is there any paler feeling than when you go to the well that has served you so well for so long, and it's dry? Bleah!

I suspect it's largely because I don't do many exciting things lately, and -- worst of all -- I've temporarily lost the ability to find the humor, wonder and conflict in everyday events. The same weird shit is out there; I've just got to tune into it.

Also, taking up more-exciting/fulfilling endeavors would help a lot. As it is, I work, watch TV, take care of the house and family. Those are great for starters, but there's an element missing.

I gotta get off my ass. Soon, soon.

Finally, it doesn't help that I'm out of practice. Perhaps some blog-based throat-clearing is in order. Brace yourself as I jot some mildly-interesting-even-to-me junk just to get my fingers and frontal lobe flexible again...