Rambling...

Sometimes I lie awake, my head overstuffed with things that really don't seem to matter but for some reason won't leave me alone. Or is it perhaps that I won't leave the various matters alone? Either way, I find myself awake all hours of the night.



I held a pen in my hand for a couple hours hoping words would run from the pen to paper evacuating my head. Constipation of the mind... There's no laxative for that particular problem. Now I'm sitting at my cluttered desk, fingers resting on the keys.... and nothing. Well, something but nothing of any great consequence.



"Write. Anything. Everything. Just write." That's what the professor told me. Just start writing and eventually it will all come spilling forth. Perhaps writing is more like photography. For every one thousand shots taken perhaps ten turn out perfectly. For every one thousand lines, one line turns out perfectly.



At what point did I become so tragically lame? My vast knowledge of the English language has dwindled to basic phrases and of all things, cliches. Ghastly! Last night I journaled about my day at the courthouse. It was dreadful. The writing, not the day, that is.



Perhaps I should stick to photography, though that's not exactly my forte either. What is? What is it that sets me apart from others? Do I even have a talent? I'd venture to say no.



And the clacking of the keys continues yet nothing but dribble is expelled. Yet I can't give up. Not yet. I'm determined to write something of worth....