Sitting.
Stewing.
Self-editorializing.
Not unlike a painter sitting in front of a blank canvas, I sit - roiling - in front of my mostly empty computer screen.
I'm pretty sure that it's not writer's block.
Because - really.
I always have a lot on my mind.
Too much.
I do believe that I am under a black cloud of what my friend calls "F*cking February" (please note that "F*cking" here is an adjective, not a verb).
And like one of those highly amusing drug adverts on t.v., the side effects of this far outweigh the benefits.
But, also like the commercials, the downsides are left until the end. When we are settled in and awestruck by the possibilities of it all, when we are locked in to committing, lulled into the comfort of what could be.
Where the sweeping, uplifting music is played loudly, and the announcer speaks at a bracing speed only dogs can register, to avoid anyone really being able to grasp what risks we take.
Life in Baroness world has been steeping in meh-ness.
Note here that I say "Baroness World" as opposed to vonB World - the rest of the clan appears to be chugging along quite nicely, thankyouverymuch.
Me? Not so much.
I am so in a "why bother?" state of mind.
And like one of those highly amusing drug adverts on t.v., the side effects of this far outweigh the benefits.
But, also like the commercials, the downsides are left until the end. When we are settled in and awestruck by the possibilities of it all, when we are locked in to committing, lulled into the comfort of what could be.
Where the sweeping, uplifting music is played loudly, and the announcer speaks at a bracing speed only dogs can register, to avoid anyone really being able to grasp what risks we take.
Life in Baroness world has been steeping in meh-ness.
Note here that I say "Baroness World" as opposed to vonB World - the rest of the clan appears to be chugging along quite nicely, thankyouverymuch.
Me? Not so much.
I am so in a "why bother?" state of mind.
Why bother keeping a meticulous house?
Why bother organizing closets, cupboards, cabinets?
Why bother making delicious meals?
Why bother spending any time writing a stupid blog that will forever "languish in obscurity"?
Just.
Why.
Bother.
I have been mulling and turning this post over for quite a few days - because who really wants to hear about another blog writer struggling with the process?
Rebel that I am, I have broken one of the cardinal rules.
It should never be about the process - it should be about the product.
The sunny, amusing product.
It should never be about the process - it should be about the product.
The sunny, amusing product.
No one wants to see behind the Emerald Curtain.
But.
Maybe you do.
Because maybe, like me, you crave validation.
You want to know that what you're feeling isn't horribly unique.
So, without further ado, may I present to you - The Ides of F*cking February.
