I am feeling the urge to write when there is nothing to say.
Does anyone else get that?
I am beyond the desire to pretend that I may be witty, or inspiring - way beyond an enthusiastic temptation to just plain grumble - I feel as creative as a house brick in the rain, have nothing of any consequence whatsoever bubbling to the surface, good or bad, yet I need to write.
Not just write, but blog.
Is that the first sign of an empty day? Of intellectual loneliness? Or is it just that communication in this particular form, the semi-anonymous spilling of guts, is addictive?
If that's the case - what do I see you as? Am I looking for counsellors, counterpoints, or for approval, a pat on the back?
Maybe you are just friends. Good, honest, sugar-free friends (fineartist is far from sugar-free today, poor girl, but that's not how I meant.)
Right, off to try and drum up enthusiasm to play hunt the kitchen tops and corners, a bit of unwelcome physical activity. What I'd rather be doing, on this wet, windy, miserable day, is blogging. Ideally shelling out sparkling wit or crystal memories; funnies or inspired reactions to other people's posts.
Tough, huh. Maybe I need a blog 'about' something, something based on more research and less freedom. No, on second thoughts, maybe I simply need to go clean that kitchen, before the shivering garden wildlife decides it would be nicer to move right in.
I think it's going to be an insulated sort of day.