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I want to write, but I can't seem to get going. I can't seem to find a subject or a story or a line of words in a row that will stoke the engine and prime the pump. Have I run out of words or just out of steam?

Maybe I'm just in reading mode. Maybe I have lost a part or worn it out. There's no ork in me. I like the word ork. I can't even think what the correct translation is in English. It's not really motivation, and it's not really energy, although it has elements of both. And it's not really will, since that implies choice, and my choice is always for energy and motivation and will. Alas, alack, I have none.

Okay, I have some.

But only a little bit. *squeezes out another sentence*

Some days I feel like writing is like toothpaste in a toothpaste tube. You squeeze and you roll up the end but eventually you've gotten everything out and there is no more. Time for a new tube!

Some days it's like the first flush of green in spring. Today was the first day the buds became leaves here in Flyinge. A hedge flushed and some small trees went up in leaves. The tractors are flocking and the fields have been turned under, their rich loamy undersides exposed to the warmth. The lungwort is up, perkily pink and purple, and little leaves of the lupine I transplanted last year have come up; stars on stalks.

I am hungry for something, but I don't know what.

Hungry head. Hungry heart. Hungry in my belly with a growly tiger grumble.

Everyone else has more words than I do. Sad ones, happy ones. Tired ones. I wonder what keeps you here. What keeps you coming back? Lately, I can't imagine.

Aha! Perhaps that's my problem.
mood: tired
music: Zombies—She's Not There


I want to write, but I can't seem to get going.

I'm totally with you here. Work's sucking the life right out of me lately, leaving no spare thoughts worth mentioning. I was thinking the other morning that it's a good thing I'm not one of those professional writers who would have to force myself to create some words even when I don't feel like it, then I realized, "Hey, if I were a professional writer, theoretically I wouldn't have a job like mine sucking the life out of me and voila! problem solved."

Somehow it's always easy to solve my little problems in daydream moments, even if they have no basis in reality - solved is solved so far as I'm concerned :).

Work and real life. They just demand so MUCH, you know exactly what I mean! :D

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lizardek's obiter photos
lizardek's obiter photos

Feeling generous? Be my guest!

I can complain because rose bushes have thorns or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.

Abraham Lincoln

obiter snippets

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Findus the cat as used in my user icon and header is the creation of Sven Nordqvist.