Thursday, June 17, 2010

...damned writer's block.

It's always been one of my biggest stumbling blocks.  I don't completely run dry on ideas.  Hell, I spit 30 ideas a second when I get revved up.  The problem is trying to paste that jumble of hints, ideas, and wisdom into a cohesive narrative that anyone that isn't really high would want to read.  And there's the time it takes for me to write.

I'm having to sit here and force myself to write this, because the beginning of this has been in my head for a few days.

So my problem is not having stuff to write, but the discipline to do so.

Over on SPD, I was able to keep the greatness coming for a couple years.  But the infighting and bullshit tends to drag me down.  Then all the mental fun kicks in, and I get reclusive.

It's bad enough that the Gmail account currently has 61 messages, stretching back into May, I'm sure I missed a bunch of tweets, and I'm trying to think of the last time I've hit the blogroll.

Here on this blog, it's worse.  Do I write abut the need to spank it again because nothing has happened as usual (especially since my world is very contracted due to kids and working at home.  Do I go on about something cute my kids did?  Sometimes, but I'm usually on to yelling at them for something else, or I finally got them bedded after an eternity, or there's something else I want/need to do.  Do I say anything about cleaning?  I've got my kitchen and bathroom under control now, but that was relatively easy.

Of course, there are a few things to share.  The ever-loving excuse for a "mother" I cursed my kids with, the Succubus, has flaked out again.  Something about being arrested for domestic violence, again, and getting the boot by her victim/boyfriend/ex/whatever.  Of course, this means she disappears off the map, maybe dropping a note about how much she misses the kids and how much she wants to see them (despite not calling me and scheduling time).

Of course, since the Succubus couldn't keep a job even when she was being sheltered and screwed,  it will be a few months before she gets her claws/sucker into the next hapless bastard that couldn't find better and prefers banging someone rather than something (insert Fleshlight reference).  Meanwhile, I keep the kids focused on the people that are in their life.  Which ain't her, again.  And the spanking of said monkey continues.

A side note:  I will be making sure that the next woman is approved by my family before things get too serious.  I've proven I have no sense/judgment/reason when my junk has any stake in the situation.  So yes, if you're the next woman, my family has veto power over my choice.  They have to; I have kids.

On the plus, I'm moving back to first shift tech support, which means hours more in sync with the rest of my family.  And since it's also occurring during summer, it's the perfect time to uproot and move closer to my family.  The sad thing is that I'll be leaving strawberries and bell peppers and pumpkins (smashing the remnants from last year behind the garage and not mowing it has proven useful) behind (I'll take the green onions in whatever condition they are.

Okay, enough catchup, time to find the floor in my room (because it's the room that doesn't get cleaned)....

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