This is more of a rant than anything else. My paper route is becoming an adventure in monotony. Why, you ask?
Take a look at this elm at the front of my house:
what do you see?
Bare branches, right? No leaves. What the hell? It’s April 3rd and I’m still waiting for one day when I’m at least tempted not to put on mukluks, a parka, a hat, my hood, gloves and underneath all that my fur-lined liberty bodice!
So what’s the deal here? And who do I complain to?
Why is it that the harder you look for inspiration the less likely it is you’ll find it? I think that’s what separates the wanna be writers from the actual writers. ‘Wanna’ just doesn’t cut it.
Today I want to write. Okay yes, I was inspired to write this, but could I come up with an idea for a story? Not a chance.
Distractions don’t help. Which is why I get antsy when I know I have to entertain people – even my kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids more than anything. But writing isn’t just a past-time for me, it’s a need. Particularly when I do get inspired by something. But today it’s the worst of both worlds.
I want to wanna…
It astounds me sometimes how holidays have changed for me. As I child I looked upon them with such anticipation – with the same degree of excitement as I see in my youngest son now. He is filled with glee at the thought of hunting for chocolate eggs, even though he won’t eat them. So what has changed? Why am I not able to see life as I did, through the eyes of a child?
I think it’s only because I choose not to. The changes that occur within myself I have the choice to modify. Ah, the disillusionment of adulthood. A sad state of affairs indeed.
I need a glass of wine.
In the spirit of the weekend, and in honour of a very special friend (you know who you are) here is an opera-singing bunny.
You’ll either love it or it will keep you away from my scotch.
lindaghill.com 