How po-mo, I know, but indulge me as I add a post about writing (or not writing, as the case may be, while actually writing, thereby creating an ironic twist worthy of Auster)… and other pleasant, passing thoughts.

I’m watching a very cute group of community volunteer kids who are busy cleaning up litter very earnestly. I am also inadverntantly supporting an Evil Corporation by drinking branded coffee. hell, the WiFi is now free… (waaaait, I realise this sounds horrendous – in a very oh sweet look at the youth of today giving back kind of way, not in the being the perve with the laptop on the patio kind of way).

I am struggling to keep up with doing any writing on a personal level, and this has added to my mounting frustration and anger in general. I don’t why I feel so angry and frustrated, though I have been dealing with an extraordinary amount of administartion that has been (excuse the vulgarism), cock-blocked at every turn. Slowly things seem to be clearling up and there are some glimmers of silver lining (dealing with HR and insurance companies, need I say more?), while simultaneously trying to plan a holiday with friends from all over the show. I feel like I am drowning in a logisitcal quagmire. Can you drown in a quagmire? I can, apparently.

Writing has always been a solace to me. i’ve had a journal since David Hees (‘s mom) gave me a locked journal for my birthday in abou Std 3 (grade 5) or possibly earlier. I write lists – oh the lists I have! – and scraps of poems, and stories, and essays, and letters (real ones, with stamps and everything)… and yet so much of this creativity has died. I know it helps keep me sane and balanced, and helps clear my mind so I can actually get to sleep quicker, so why oh WHY is it such a slog to do it? why haven’t I been keeping up with this?

I know my brain is positively fried after 4-hour classes three nights a week, plus all the million student emails… but I spend enough time on Crackbook to have written a series of novels already, so why the eff am I stalling? I have a story idea I’ve been threshing out, but there it sits… I have updates to make on my website, but instead… nothing. Vacant stares, dormant ideas, Dead Poet’s Society, literally.

I’m not sure how to cure this type of writer’s block, except to force myself to take my laptop on an outing, possibly put a block on Crackbook (or go to Social Media Douchebags Anonymous meetings) and just frikkin’ well do it.

Life just seems to get in the way, innit?