I’ve always heard of this malaise but haven’t experienced it in a huge way until recently. Honestly, I can’t think of anything to write about! Part of the problem I’m sure, is that I’ve begun to wonder if anything I have to say is important enough to put into print, and if anyone has time to read it. We are constantly going here and there, so I’m assuming everyone is as busy as I am. The stories hitting the internet this week are so touching and in some cases so grim, that writing about mundane life almost seems counterproductive. I guess I could add my two cents to some story coming out of the entertainment world. Talk about counterproductive! Why Lindsay had so much blush on when she was late to the morgue… how much or how little Angela weighs now… is Jennifer really pregnant? What about Ashton? No, I know he's not pregnant.
Perhaps I could write about manners and where they’ve gone or why a person would throw away a perfectly good latte because of a simple remark by the barrista. Another story.
Truly, most topics are seeming unimportant to me except for how they relate to loving and helping each other, and eternity and what we’re going to do about it. This is not to say I’ll never write about something silly again, but not for awhile.
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