I've been here before.
This empty white box is full of a lot of pressure. It's staring at me and the cursor blinks like a demented eye following your every move. I've moved all around the room, left, went to sleep, ate, anything I could think of to get this white box out of my mind. The cursor lives on. I should give him a name. Something like, Max. Or Richard. Something interesting but majestic and domineering. Something that will strike fear into the hearts of empty journal boxes.
I've come back to this spot over and over the past 48 hours and I still can't think of anything to say. Nothing spectacular, nothing that comes to mind. When I'm walking down the street or driving in my car and I'm around breathing beings, I can think of a lot of things to say. I could write endless lists of things to scream and shout and most of them aren't positive things so I won't repeat them.
Another 10 minutes spent staring into space. If a sentence is written and no one is around to read it, do I still have to hit spell check? There's a mystery for the minds.
The meat of this is, I was here before and I flaked out. I didn't get bored. I won't say that, bored means I didn't put enough energy into something. Bored means I was distracted and did something half-heartedly and I couldn't live with that. I was, um. Not ready for the responsibility of an online journal. That has a nice ring to it. Makes it sound professional too. I'm going to use that sentence next time my mother calls me about something I did or did not do. Sorry, just wasn't ready for the responsibility. Wasn't my fault. And somewhere in the sentence I'll slip the word shan't in. People love that word.
Alright I've rambled a respectable amount of paragraphs and you see that I was here, I left and I'm back again. I'll be visiting random friends pages near you. Please see my feature presentation.
Same journal. Different writer. Come join my circus.
I've come back to this spot over and over the past 48 hours and I still can't think of anything to say. Nothing spectacular, nothing that comes to mind. When I'm walking down the street or driving in my car and I'm around breathing beings, I can think of a lot of things to say. I could write endless lists of things to scream and shout and most of them aren't positive things so I won't repeat them.
Another 10 minutes spent staring into space. If a sentence is written and no one is around to read it, do I still have to hit spell check? There's a mystery for the minds.
The meat of this is, I was here before and I flaked out. I didn't get bored. I won't say that, bored means I didn't put enough energy into something. Bored means I was distracted and did something half-heartedly and I couldn't live with that. I was, um. Not ready for the responsibility of an online journal. That has a nice ring to it. Makes it sound professional too. I'm going to use that sentence next time my mother calls me about something I did or did not do. Sorry, just wasn't ready for the responsibility. Wasn't my fault. And somewhere in the sentence I'll slip the word shan't in. People love that word.
Alright I've rambled a respectable amount of paragraphs and you see that I was here, I left and I'm back again. I'll be visiting random friends pages near you. Please see my feature presentation.
Same journal. Different writer. Come join my circus.