The Wall


If there is a wall in creativity, I’ve hit it I’m feeling about as creative as… something that isn’t very creative. Simile = good example.

If there’s a wall for parenting, I’ve hit that too.  Patience = zero and ideas = zero squared (that’s a lot folks).

If there’s one for looking after one’s self, it’s a hit and if there’s one for generally keeping balls in the air, forward momentum and a sense of getting on with ‘it’, that wall is looming large ahead. No… Wait… There it is. Contact – direct hit.

I’ve got nothing. Vacant space. I’ve been running up and down the length of this wall for a number of weeks now, looking furtively for a way over, under, through or around it, but have come up with nada, nichts, zip. So, I’m just going to sit down here for a while, have a drink in the wall’s shade and wait for the hand of God to emerge from the clouds to lift me out of my stale spot. With any luck, He’ll soon sit me atop the wall and let me fall to the other side like Humpty Dumpty, so I’ll have something hilarious to write about next week.

In the meantime, I’ll refer my readers to Mrs Woog’s post last week that so eloquently describes what’s going on for me right now.

Ok, a good description minus the nicotine withdraws. I’m not suffering from that, though at least if I were I could blame something, vent something, hit something, get psycho mad, blow my stack and then have a bloody cigarette because I no longer cared what was happening to my insides or what the world thought of me or…

hmmm, maybe I need to take up smoking…

jokes folks. Just jokes. See how lame I am?


Whatever. Enjoy the tumbleweed.



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