I miss my words. Caught up in the midst of a lit review and constipated by some issues emerging from my past and i find myself staring at my computer with something akin to fear and loathing. November looms heavy and gray before me and that is problematic because November is NaNoWWriMo and for once i’d like to finish.
But if i can’t summon the syllables to complete a simple blog how the heck am i supposed to find 50,000 words worthy of stringing together and telling a story?

part of it is working through the gunk. Like machinery or an old toothpaste tube all crusted over…sometimes you just have to dig past the crud until you get to the good stuff. Sometimes you have to trust there is still good stuff left. And i want to trust that. But i’m also a believer that gifts are given for a reason (and i do believe my words were a gift…to myself if no one else) and if they go unused they are returned. I like to believe my words are sitting in the bag with the receipt on top but not yet re-shelved for some more grateful and mindful someone to use.

Maybe i’ll just have to dig a little at a time. This short blogette is me peeling the crust off the sides of tube so maybe- just maybe- i can get the lid to screw on. Maybe tomorrow i’ll prick enough of a hole through the mess for a few pearly drops to leak through- enough to give me hope of clean teeth…er…meaningful sentences to send back into the ether as a thank you and a prayer.

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