It started subtly, as often things tend to do. An itch here. A tug there.
Then it gradually became stronger, like a wave rolling towards the coast grows until it crests.
When I listen to music on the way to work, I find myself writing lines of poetry in my head. (Unfortunately those lines have always evaporated by the time I arrive.) While playing a role-playing game I find different aspects of the story which I could adapt into the novel which roams my hard drive alone like a homeless soul during another cruel night. When I read the words of my favorite dilettante at night before I douse the light I feel inspired to concoct my own literary pieces.
It’s not a full-blown sickness yet, but I’ve caught the fever. I do not know how long it will last.
I’ve been toying with writing a new post for a few days now. I’ve been trying to conjure up the motivation to begin adding to my novel again. One important thing has been eluding me, however, and that is time. I simply don’t have enough of it.
I decided the other day that, before I did anything, I needed to follow through with my plan to rename this here weblog. I meant it when I said I’d outgrown the name. This place is no longer a sanctuary for a lost man trying to find himself. I no longer wish to air my grievances here, though I will do so when and if the need arises. I am doing my best to avoid any negativity I can. I’m tired of being brought down. Tired of being down.
I got the idea for a new name the other day, but didn’t get to act on it until tonight because the totalitarian in charge of my house (my four-year-old, Baby C, for the uninitiated) came down with an Upper Respiratory Infection and has been sneezing, coughing, and generally cranky the last few days. (And don’t feel bad for him. Feel bad for me because I’m the one who had to deal with him.)
So without further ado, I welcome you, my friends, to Mental Defecation, named thus because this is where my mind poops.
Once upon a time I had a blog which was a veritable buffet of topics, styles, and moods. I’d like to get back to those roots. I’d like this to be a place to play, but also a haven when needed. I’d like to write the occasional poem, the occasional flash of fiction, the occasional my-children-drive-me-crazy story, in addition to opening my closet and laying my skeletons bare. I’d still like to use my blog to raise awareness for suicide prevention, but I’d like to have fun with my blog as well. Who knows? Maybe I might even bring back Blunt Life Coach.
I hesitate to say that I’m back. Time is ever my enemy. I feel I’m being drawn back in, though. We’ll see where it goes.