Today. I feel. Like I don’t want to write.
Weird? No. it happens. But today I feel like I’m sitting at a blank screen wondering… what should I write?
Should I talk about all the pies I’ve been baking? (apple, peach, blackberry, blueberry, raspberry, cherry, pumpkin crumble) nope. Don’t feel like it.
Should I talk about the show I worked on this week? The benefit for breast cancer that starred Wayne Brady, Busy Philipps, Sharon Lawrence, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Eric Stonestreet, Julie Bowen, and Ty Burrell? Nah.
Should I write about how I’ve been here in LA for 6 months. A whole half of a year? The fact that my life has changed so much that if I tried to imagine what the next 6 months will bring, my brain might explode? Eh…
So, what do I write about? The feeling of teetering between insanely motivated and lethargic? The feeling that sometimes I wake up and want to grab the world by its hoo-ha and sometimes I want to sleep.
Sure. I can talk about all these things. But, it feels false. Like I’d be written to appease someone else who might possibly be reading this. Of course, I appreciate you taking a minute from your day to read this, but would you be interested if I just muster up a few farcical paragraphs about all the above-mentioned categories. But… let’s be real. I don’t front.
So, today I’ll leave you with a few things to think about and next week, I’ll show up to play ball……
A poem of links….
East to West: A Chronicle 