I came across a Gene Perret quote today that actually slam-dunked my current state of mind: “He has a brain like Albert Einstein – Dead Since 1955.” So, who is Gene Perret you ask? He is known as the guru of comedy writing and credited with writing jokes for such stellar performers as Bob Hope, Carol Burnett, Tim Conway, and a slew of others. I find myself wondering how anyone sustains that level of creativity for weeks, months, years, and decades. I am lucky to make it through any given day.
Today is no different. Yet again, I am in one of those places where I am struggling with what I could write that might add meaning to anyone’s existence. My brain is fried, and my mood is just not conducive to sharing. Now, I assure you my friends would easily say that I am never at a loss for words. Quite the opposite. Some would no doubt lament that sometimes I should just shut up. The only thought lingering in my brain right now is thank goodness some high-profile megastar is not waiting for me to make them shine in the spotlight. I wonder if Gene Perret ever called in sick.
In my lackluster state, I find myself thinking about how non-motivational days play out in the workplace. I can honestly say that never, not once, did I ever call in sick because I did not want to go to work. I have heard people call them "mental health days" but I just never took that plunge. It is much easier to find motivation when there is a superior in your line of sight watching your every move. So, Hi Ho Hi Ho, off to work I'd go. Here in the privacy of my writer's studio, however (ha, my living room), the only prying eyes are from the dog. And I can safely say he does not give a rip about what I write.
My first thought was to open my inspirational needs to my readers. What would you like me to rant about today? What would you like to know about me? What daily challenges do you face? But reality slapped me square in the face. I panicked frantically at the thought of suggestions seeking my opinions on nuclear fusion, fantasy football leagues, Kardashian fashion trends or God forbid, politics or pandemics. No, no, no, not today. Back to reality. And so, I write.
I am guessing it all boils down to work ethic. Some are perfectly content with watching the clock while juggling tasks back and forth from front burner to back burner accomplishing very little. Others jump in, headfirst, pursuing completion with focused intent and panic as the end of the day approaches. I have found that loud bursts of certain four-letter f-words at the top of my lungs can work wonders on intellectual stimulation. Although today, a complete hallelujah chorus of f-words has not budged my creativity.
I am curious if the weather has anything to do with it. November is rapidly advancing, and fall has yet to jump to the head of the class. It has been so unseasonably warm and rainy that even Mother Nature is confused. My lawn still needs mowing, the trees are still green, and my gladiolas and hostas are blooming - again. Maybe I am caught in this whirlwind of confusion too.
Well, well, will you look at that. Strangely enough, this exercise has swept away today's low-lying fog and ushered in clouds of new topics just begging for my sassy scrutiny. My loss for words is found and a blog entry is born. Sorry friends, I am babbling again. Sometimes we just need to let the winds of change clear the path. Other times, we just need alcoholic libations to spawn the seeds of wisdom. Oops. Did I just spill my cure for writer’s block? Ah, but that is fodder for yet another rant.
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