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Blogging Bitching and Bellyaching

I’ve come upon a bit of a problem in my Blurried Musings submissions over the past week: I’m not in the mood. When I began barely three months ago, the ideas came quickly, and I spent an average of a single hour composing and cleaning up each article. Now I tap my eyelids throughout the day as I wonder what’s to go up next. And the time spent writing! Well, it’s not a full day’s work, I’ll grant you that, but it’s a good deal more than an hour.

It isn’t that I want to end it all at this point. I’d hate to toss the site just when things are faintly beginning to pick up, and I certainly have enough time on my hands to cobble together an inanity or two for release into the wilds of blog*spot. But I’ve hit an unexpected and quite elaborate funk that’s drawing the once easy ability to go a-musing right out of me. That, or I’ve slipped into a (hopefully short-lived) seasonal quagmire of labored melancholy. Either way, it’s really pissing me off.

The word “melancholy” isn’t used much anymore, is it. Today it’s depressed this and psychotic that. Let’s bring this nineteenth century term of concernment back into vogue!

I get the odd, as in occasional, idea floating about which refuses to stick to my text editor, forcing a number of restarts before I come to a finished composition. There’s also times when I draw an utter blank, and no amount of grumbling and clawing at the outside of my frontal lobe delivers up enough interesting tidbits or wry observations to set me off and writing. I fear I’ll bust an intellectual kidney from the forced exertions of hammering ideas out my psychological sternum, because devising these brief artextual ditties has become little more than a cruel exercise in pressured concentration, and I’m my own best torturer in this game. To chance ticking off Martha Stewart, I’ll say: It’s not a Good Thing.™

Not that it’s truly dangerous or disheartening, mind you. It’s just a Weblog. I’ve gone through worse machinations many times before in important, costly projects, and always came out free of cuts and bruises. But when the incoming cash flow on a task is nil, one has to ask, regularly, if it’s worth the time spent on it. Hobbies should be fun, right? This has been fun, and can be again. I only have to remember why I started it in the first place… let me check my notes. Nearly the only thing keeping me going right now is pure bloody-mindedness, though there’s a concern for the aspects of accomplishment I still get out of it, and a wish to assure the regular audience (all three of you — Ahoy!) they’ll continue to see something fresh here on a daily basis. Whether or not it’ll be something they like is out of my control.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Having the opportunity to get that off my chest makes all the difference — sorry for using this space as an antidepressant fix. The program normally scheduled for this time returns tomorrow, commercials and all.