What do you write about when you don’t know what to write about? How about not knowing what to write about! Like today. I don’t have anything in particular to say, primarily because I have a head cold or something, and feel stuffier than a Christmas turkey, and my cold medicine isn’t doing diddly other than making me dull headeder and loopy.
When I opened this blog roughly four years ago, I did so because having a blog is supposed to be a big plus for writers. I never figured that someone who likes to chatter as much as I do would have days where no valid blog topic would come to mind.
Boy, was I dumb.
Since I banned myself from writing political and social issue posts, and since I stink at devotionals and don’t write them often enough to improve, I’ve severely limited my subject matter. Believe me, if I allowed myself to write about the more controversial topics, I’d never be short of material. The world we live in seems to have lost all logic and common sense, and I could easily take on the mission of righting all wrongs. But part of maturity, I guess, is realizing that not every opinion I have needs to hit the page. Besides, the world isn’t ready for me yet.
So the best thing for me to do while my brain is duller than a candle in the stadium lights is just to write whatever comes to my feeble brain.
By the way, I’ve gotten so heavily involved in writing and editing that I’ve lost my touch at cooking without a recipe. Didn’t know that could happen. Sure, I can make basic recipes without looking–practically without thinking. But the other day, I tried to make a turkey pot pie (yes, I don’t care if it is a ’50s kinda thing, I still like it), and couldn’t adjust the seasonings to suit me. Trust me–“more” doesn’t necessarily lead to “better.” I’m amazed we were able to eat it. Probably didn’t care because we’re both loopy with cold medicine.
PS, if you haven’t tried the chicken pot pie at KFC, you’re missing out.
Hmmm. Maybe I should do this every Friday. Random thoughts, randomly written. Usually by Friday, I border on useless anyway. Especially this Friday. A full week of having my hours topsy-turvey can make me understandably foggy. All week, I’ve been going to bed earlier and earlier–last night, I hit the sheets at 6! And I’ve been getting up earlier and earlier, not because I’m rested, but because my medicine has worn off. Or MSB’s has, and he’s coughin’ his head off, which echoes in the quiet room and shakes the bed and wakes me up.
Wait. What was I talking about?
You know what? I’m going back to bed . . .