I’ve started three blog posts today, and they all ended up in the electronic trash. Sometimes being shallow is painful. I have something serious to write about, and I just can’t do it.
When I try to write on a long-faced subject, I get so bored with my own writing that I drift off to sleep while typing. And that can be dangerous, since last week I fell out of my chair and bumped my head.
Maybe I could label my sober scribbles the ‘melatonin series’ if I ever actually publish this hypnotic dribble.
I’ve been a little down lately with some worries troubling me: job insecurity prompted me to cancel my bimonthly online clothing order from Stitch Fix; I don’t like the latest IOS update that slowed down my iMac to the speed of dial-up; and I’ve had a case of writer’s block with dozens of posts in the draft folder and no inspiration to finish them.
Why can’t I overcome these mental obstacles?
The weather is getting colder and the fallen leaves are a nuisance, blowing into the garage and winding their way into the house. I shiver at the thought of the upcoming winter with blustery cold nor’eastern winds and storms, burying us in snow and bringing below zero temperatures.
Why can’t I live somewhere warmer?
I’m getting more and more involved with writing and the blogging community, and have had essays published in several online magazines/websites. My self-doubts seem to grow along with my outreach.
Why can’t I just celebrate and claim some success?
I wish I could write as well as Peg Schulte. She is such a talented humor writer that she can even write about death and make me laugh. And cry. I hope you will click on this linked post and read it, since it is so much better than what I am writing right now: Magic Carpet Ride.
Why can’t I write as well as she does?
Life is just not fair.
How many times have I said this?
And suddenly it hit me; if life was fair we’d all have cancer. Like my beloved cousin Colleen, who died last week.
She lived a healthy lifestyle, possessing none of the habits/vices we associate with early deaths or cancer.
I remember when my sister Linda was dying of lung cancer, people would ask me, “Does she smoke?” When I replied, “No, but she did for many years,” I could see the visible relief come across their faces. Ahhhhh, she smoked. So surely that explains her situation, and exempts me, the non-smoker, from such a fate.
Why do we still think people are to blame for their illnesses?
The Teacher summed up divine fairness when he said in Matthew 5:45 that God causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. In this same chapter He promises comfort: Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Is it possible everything does NOT happen for a reason?
Meanwhile, I still have some things on my mind; gratitude for my health and family, the snug little home I live in, and the ability to write and admire the work of writers who inspire me to improve and grow.
Rest in peace, dear cousin.