I was on a role in my writing for a while, everything inspired me. I was hyper sensitive to every situation, taking mental notes to write about later. These days I find myself struggling to focus enough just to write a single sentence. I have heard of a thing called "writers block" but never actually experienced it myself, because writing is who I was. In my life, writing was as essential as breathing, and while much of what I wrote never made it to my blog, it still sustained me. Lately however, my pen is still. My late night visits with my iPod and keyboard are few and far between. My thoughts are often too scattered off in every direction to even attempt to pull back together. I blame it on vacation. My body has been back for nearly a month now, but my mind and abilities to reason are still sitting by that pool, watching the clouds above the palm trees.
Take for example the fact that usually, I would be able to write an entire blog about what I saw when I got home tonight. A little boy was trying to "weed-eat" the yard for his mom. Since the divorce, he has been trying to do the manly tasks a father just "does" such as mow the yard, or carry out the trash, or check for leaks under the car. I couldn't help but smile to myself as he was trying to haul around a piece of equipment twice as tall as he was and running it full throttle. The grass was flying everywhere, and the yard looked like a really really bad hair cut. Smile I did, but deep inside I was saddened. It's tough to be a kid, tough enough without having your father up and walk out on you. I'm proud of that kid though, he's going to make it. I over heard his mom saying that she told him "you can't expect things are ever going to be the same again, just be thankful for what you had, while you had it, and move on." Those are tough words for a mother to say, and probably tough words to hear for a boy who might be ten.
Or, there is this bird. I have written several blogs in my head about this bird at work. A mother killdeer has laid her eggs in our parking lot, specifically right next to my car. I set up a barricade of rocks around it, because her eggs blend right in to the gravel and they would be so easily stepped on. I worry about that mamma bird out there sitting on those eggs. We have had some really bad rain storms this month, some with hail. I wonder if she is getting enough to eat, if she is warm enough, if the eggs are going to hatch... I suppose I need only to leave mother-nature to tend to the situation, but that's hard to do. I find it inspiring for this mother bird to be so dedicated to her eggs. She covers them with her wings, and warms them with her body. So much to write about really... if I could just do it.
Maybe this will help. What is it they say? The first step to a solution is admitting you have a problem? Well, I admit it... my "writer" is broke.