My Pen Mates,
I've been meaning to focus on writing in this journal the last few days, thinking up ways to express plainly thoughts I wish to share. Alas, the words have not come; despite my multiple access and available time to note things down, there bug has just been that elusive. I've re-directed my energies by exercising, revisiting old activities like volunteering at my children's school, trying to trip up my internal clock, reading more-- but the trend continues.
This is perhaps how it feels--only worse-- for people who depend on writing as a livelihood. One can only want to keep on jumping onto the wagon and slip off miserably every time before the realization sets in that a block has set in. Revisiting its onset, while therapeutic, is not necessarily curative. It's all but a means to kill time.
Is it the cold and the changing weather? Is it the depressed economy and the foreboding of leaner times to come? Is it frustration that's deeply set that I can't get my finger on it's trigger? Or is it just an important period where my mind's eye need to loose focus so thoughts in the coming days will flow better and be expressed with a clarity of perspective which has hitherto been absent?
I'll look at my diet, maybe it's something I've been ingesting.
Mon
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