There are things that have always confused people.
Ever since iron, oxygen, silicon, magnesium, sulfur, nickel, calcium, aluminum and a whole mess of other crap swirled itself into this giant rock four and a half billion years ago — or since God whipped this puppy up in six days — there have been questions.
What causes man’s inhumanity to man?
How DO they get the caramel in the Caramilk bar?
Why was I singing “Careless Whisper” in the shower this morning?
Why does anyone care about Barry Bonds and the home run record? (Seriously. He’s a doping jackass and he just doesn’t care. There’s no shame in being a pariah, dude. Ugh.)
And, more importantly, why can’t I think of things to blog about anymore?
This is my 298th blog post in a little over a year.
Which tells us that, in addition to being an attention whore and in love with sharing my thoughts, I also get a bit wiggy if too many days go by without a post showing up on PDDC.
But, this isn’t a post about not knowing what to blog. (This isn’t a rebel song either.)
This is a post about posting about having nothing to blog.
I read a post by a fellow blogger this morning. It was a list of things that made her smile. It was simple and it was charming. And I said, “Why didn’t I think of that?” Then I said, “Why are you talking to yourself at your desk, fucknuts?”
I had no answer for that.
I am listening to “Friday I’m In Love” and there are at least two things wrong with that title.
It dawned on me yesterday that when you are completely blog-blocked, there is only one logical thing to do…
Start a new blog.
That is how my brain works.
This one is going to be different. It is still in the planning phases. It is going to be a group dealie. And, since I’m a shameless self-promoter, you know that I’ll be mentioning it again in here soonish.
Did you folks know that time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend? To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind. There’s no comfort in the truth, pain is all you’ll find.
It’s true. I heard that someplace before.