So Then Why Am I Blocked???

Okay, the runner stumbled, again, and it’s terribly frustrating. My goal for 2008 was to be more disciplined and consistent in the development of my craft (i.e. this blog). So what’s my excuse? I don’t have one. It’s not like I don’t have an abundance of time; an hour on the train each morning and evening, a lunch hour at work, and between 8:00 p.m. and 4:30 a.m. every night. (Who needs sleep?) It’s not like I don’t have the talent. If you need examples, just read my past nebulous musings. It’s not like I don’t have the topics. I can’t keep up with them all. I could sit in an isolated cabin for a month with last Tuesday’s edition of the Los Angeles Times and be able to generate a new post everyday. And we’re not even talking about the observational stuff. Of course, in an isolated cabin the observations would be limited to the hum of the Jacuzzi or the expressions on the squirrels’ faces watching me write in the nude. (Hey, if I’m going to be isolated, I’m going to be comfortable.) There are topics everywhere. It’s amazing what’s going on all around us. This coming year, voters may elect the first woman or African-American president. If Oprah Winfrey would go ahead and step out from behind that curtain, we could have done both simultaneously. I’m not partial on who’s president. My only objection is having a liberal in the White House, but it looks like that will happen even if the winner is the Republican.

Five people got shot in Illinois by a person working on his masters in social work. A child shot a child in Oxnard, because one of them was a homosexual and the other one couldn’t handle it. 143 millions pounds of beef has just been recalled because workers were kicking and electrocuting sick cows into the slaughterhouse (Quite frankly, you’d have to kick me to get me into a slaughterhouse, too.) and my kids’ school lunch room received a “B” from the health department. The good news I reported in a previous blog literally doubled (a friend is having twins) and the bad news metastasized. Good friends are moving away and budget cuts at work and at home are moving my way. I’m working at being a loving husband, a grounded father, and a repentant Christian. Believe me, I have a lot to write about.
I’ve got to make a pact. I considered developing a detailed system or establish an all-controlling structure with strict rules and operate with consequences for non-compliance. So what if this plan didn’t work with religion. What do we really know about Martin Luther, anyway? Maybe he was a whiner? Maybe when he didn’t get his way, he nailed lists on doors throughout the city. For all we know on the way to the cathedral, he nailed a 95 Thesis on the butchers doorpost on “Why people deserve fresh beef.” (or I guess, maybe if we had a Martin Luther today, we wouldn't have people kicking sick cows.) For all we know, he was on his way to the local bistro to nail “95 reasons why it’s wrong to grease the maitre'd’s palm for a better table” on their door. All I know is that my writing won’t thrive if left to my own devices. (For that matter, neither will my spiritual life.) And while “grace alone” is sincerely appreciated with respect to the content of what I write (and with my spiritual life), I need some “works” or I won’t have any work.

You know, that period of time when your wife is just starting labor? She isn’t exactly in it, but the pains are starting . . . . birth pangs. I never cared for that time. I wanted it to be over already. The dad just stands there, feeling responsible, kinda useless, just wanting it to be over. (I could make another beef reference about #!#s on a bull, but I won't.) I wanted it over. I wanted to see my baby; hold my baby and give little bunny kisses on the baby’s forehead. We've got definate birth pangs, getting stronger and stronger. . . Man, I’ve got a lot to write about. (I’ve got to make a pact.)