Two Weeks

Has it really been two weeks since I last wrote on this blog?  Where the hell did two weeks go?

Let's see, I can recall tiny tidbits from the last fourteen days. . . mostly my dreams:  I dreamt about porkchops; buying them, cooking them, seasoning them and then eating them.  It wasn't just one dream - it was multiple dreams in one night on the same topic, each dream picking up where it left off.

Then I had a dream that there was a hair in a cheesestick I was eating.  I pulled on the hair, disgusted, and out popped a cute baby rabbit with long, soft ears and beautiful fur.  I quickly decided not to sue the cheesestick makers because they had just given me this cute baby.  Yes, the rabbit, after I bathed it, turned into a perfect, newborn baby - - soft skin, miraculous healing powers and all.  I kept the baby and was so very excited.

Other than that?

Work.
Kids.
Basketball games.
Work.
Dogs.
Guinea Pigs (fully aware, now that I've had them for a year, why they are called pigs).
Homework.
Work.
Movies with the kids.

Not one mention of writing, eh?  Not one creative word written in the entire fourteen days.

No wonder I'm dreaming such strange dreams.  My creativity is stuck in my head - - amidst spreadsheets, and processes, whining and laughter.  Stuck.

As you can see, it's still stuck in there.

I bought myself a notebook yesterday.   It's a hokey notebook because on the cover it says, in pretty handwriting:  Words Matter: Write to learn what you know.

So I started writing in it, late last night and early this morning.  And you do know what I learned by writing?

I need to write more.

Otherwise, in the next dream I have, I might be feeding pork chops to a baby baboon that I've just given birth to through my big toe on an island filled with ducks, and sofas, lamps and suitcases filled with linguini and clams sauce that I am feeding to my pet doghouse.

Ah, not so good. But more imaginative than when I started. . .