What do you write a blog post about when you can’t think of anything you want to write? Completely uninspired. Bored with my normal topics. I’m not sure what the problem is. I mean other than the obvious writer’s block. I’m not feeling lazy. In fact, I’m hellbent to publish a post today, just to spite myself, or maybe to spite you. I have about fifty draft blog post ideas languishing in my blog’s dashboard and I don’t want to finish any of them. You can only write about addiction for so long. I’m only compelling in short bursts anyway, if at all. What’s that? No one is paying attention to you, you say? So don’t write. Don’t contribute to the noise on the internet unless you have something to say. Where’s the sport in that? I’m a writer. I’m supposed to write shit.
No one has done anything remotely provocative or irritating so far today to give me any fodder to write about. Bastards. No antics lately. My husband has been nice to me. My kids didn’t irritate the shit out of me before school. The drivers on the road were courteous. I even let a driver pass in front of me and the asshole waved thank-you, just like civilized people are supposed to. I couldn’t even write about one of my biggest traffic pet-peeves: when people don’t take the two seconds to acknowledge you did them a solid in traffic. I could always lie or make up some injustice, but I’m not even geared up enough to do that. Now that I’ve cut my hair short I don’t have the kind of bad hair days that made me want to be a man. My bills are paid. The beds have clean sheets. We have shows lined up to watch on Netflix to last us for a while. I worked out hard with my exercise buddy and our trainer, so I feel good about that.
The Anecdote to Writer’s Block Is Not a Beautiful Day (But It Totally Should Be!)
To tell the truth, I’m having a rather pleasant day. It’s 63 degrees without a cloud in the sky. I’m not lounging on a beach, but I have been watching kids from the elementary school across the street from my office literally running and screaming to get to the playground. I wish something, anything, made me so happy I wanted to run, skip or gallop towards it. I feel like I shouldn’t bother you with a pleasant day experience. Also, for some reason the song Detachable Penis just popped into my head. Double-bonus, right? Now you can have it stuck in your head, too.
Please, people! I need material. Someone come punch me in the buttocks or something.