Not Sure...

I'm not sure what to call it. It's not ennui (one of my all-time favorite words, by the way). It's not really boredom. And I don't feel particularly burnt-out. It's just, I think, the need for a short break in the routine.

This is my 560th blog. I started on February 5, 2007, intending to do one a day, but soon realized I couldn't possibly keep it up and get anything else done--like writing books, for example. So I went to a Monday/Wednesday/Friday schedule which I've maintained ever since. I don't think I've ever missed a day.

I am, as stated here frequently, compelled to write, and I place that compulsion squarely at the feet of time. (You didn't know Time had feet? It does. Trust me.) Time is more than just precious; time is all there is. My every thought and action is, at the core, predicated on my acute awareness of the passage of time. I consider a day without writing to be a day lost forever, gone without a trace--and leaving a trace of myself is the probably the strongest driving motivation of my life.

I am aware, as each of these words appear on a screen totally blank beyond the word being written, that I must get this blog done for tomorrow. Which automatically turns me into one of those wild-eyed cartoon characters dashing wildly off in all directions blubbering nonsense.

At such times I try to step back...convince myself to play a game of computer solitaire. Right. Good luck with that one. The little cartoon character won't let me concentrate (yeah, like there's a lot of concentration involved in solitaire), jumping up and down, tugging at my sleeve, fanning his hand in front of my eyes and burbling "NoNoNoNo: work! You'll never get it done if you waste your time playing stupid games." Which of course destroys any sense of relaxation I was hoping to find by playing in the first place.

So I try to get back to the blog. It isn't that the words aren't there, it's just that they might as well be encased in wet concrete, or that whatever I try to say either isn't what I want to say, or I'm not using the right words to say them...or both. I'm in a long hall lined with partially blocked doors, behind each one of them is a potential blog topic. I try to force one open, push it open a few paragraphs, get frustrated, figure "the hell with it", and move on to the next door. Same thing. Stop for a brief moment to look back at a trail of mixed metaphors like gum wrappers...wet concrete, doors, gum wrappers, etc...I've left in my wake.

My innate laziness, pretending to be the voice of calm and reason, steps in and says, "Relax...just go way back and redo a blog you've already used. No one will remember." While it's probably right (and I do appreciate the vote of confidence in just how deathless my prose is), and I have reused a blog on occasion, I don't want to make a habit of it.

"Okay," somebody roaming around in the space between my ears, says, "just don't do a blog tomorrow."

"Great idea. What do I do, put up a note saying 'Gone fishing'? I hate fishing. Or, perhaps, 'This Space for Rent'?" People do not like to see blank space where a blog is supposed to be.

The fact of the matter is that I am sincerely concerned (have I mentioned my tendency toward paranoia?) that were I to skip a blog, you, the reader, would go away and not come back. If you're kind enough to put up with my ramblings, the very least I can do is give you something to read, even if it doesn't make much sense.

"Excuse me? So you're willing to just throw out anything and expect the reader to accept it? That's insulting! If you can't say something worth saying, why the hell do you even bother?"

Hmmm. Point....Oh, I know! I can do a blog about arguing with myself. That sounds like a winner. You'll buy that, won't you?...Won't you?

Hello?

New entries are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Please come back...and bring a friend. Your comments are always welcome. And you're invited to stop by my website at http://www.doriengrey.com, or drop me a note at doriengrey@att.net.