There's so much to write about in my life right now and yet I feel fuzzy and "writer-blocked", as if somebody slipped me a not- non-drowsy-sudafed in my non-fat double white chocolate mocha this morning. And I have tried everything to wake up today, including jogging 4 miles, another cup of coffee, yoga (wait...doesn't that relax the body instead of stimulating it?), swedish fish (delish!)... countered by string cheese for protein, and push-ups. Yes, there's nothing like a few sets of 10 push-ups to get the heart going and the brain screaming out..."is this worth it? ".
But still I feel marshmallow-peeped brain fried and I am thinking it's got to be all of the stress of the last few weeks... the big things and the little things that have happened are probably piling up inside of my creative apparatus, clinging to and rusting out whatever used to turn the writing wheels somewhat smoothly. The rust .. or maybe it's some coffee resistant fungi...is probably also corroding my spelling capabilities and my two finger typing capabilities. I can't decide whether to pick a theme to write about, apply some magical writing for popular blog formula, or just ramble endlessly.
I could go on and on about the factors in my life that are creating my FBWB (fuzzy-brained writer's block), but maybe it will seem like too much or too little; too revealing or not clear enough. Well, I like bullet points and lists thanks in part to one of my esteemed graduate professors who used to return my submissions to me with track changes using red .
- Okay, here's the biggie (I can't believe I am going to reveal so much so soon): My 44 year old brother died 3 weeks ago today. He was a national-record-holding-track star when we were kids. Future Olympian, Scholarship winning, and my sometimes greatest tormentor. Why did he have to tell every boy I had a crush on in high school that I had crush on them? Why did he randomly just hit me when we were kids? How did he manipulate me into doing things I didn't want to do?
- Anyway, after college he was diagnosed with bipolar disease and the system or society (yes, that means me and you kiddos) failed him. He died of causes yet to be released... alone in a jail cell serving time in Florida for felony assault of a police officer. Yep, pretty well depressing and f'd up and I guess not really what I want to write about. I don't want to tell you about how we weren't really close, how I found out about his death via email, and how my family has perhaps reacted strangely. Maybe when my head clears and the FBWB dissipates.
- Since then, the fungi and rust on my mechanical writing apparatus seem to march forward with their growth, being cultivated by the little stressors that are adding up. Now I thought it was supposed to be at times like this that little things don't matter, you relish the preciousness of everyday life. Not so in my case. The pile of poop just seems to be expanding and stinking things up, sweltering in the heat of my caffeinated body, refusing to biodegrade into earth matter.
- My husband ran over the $500 double phil-n-teds stroller. I have to take the blame here because I only reminded him 3 times that he had left the stroller behind his van. I immediately had to charge a new stroller double stroller as the kids cried and whined and asked why Daddy had run over their stroller-ride. Even though I love my husband and I am pleased with the new baby jogger, it still irks me to see the "dead" stroller at the end of the driveway, just a twisted, mangled heap, rusting away like my mechanical writing apparatus.
- I lost a teaching contract; well really the school just gave me one less class, but last term they gave me one extra class. This is always unpredictable and one of the challenges of being a sort of free-lance, contracted, adjunct faculty member for 4 or 5 colleges at any given time. Come fall, I will be turning classes down.
- Somebody has been using my debit/credit card to buy things from one valuemax in CT. I live in CA, a couple thousand zip and area codes away. Luckily my debit card has fraud alert and they were able to stop purchases right away. Meanwhile I have to wait 7-10 days for a new card. And my poor FBWB brain will have to memorize a new set of 16 number digits and 3 digit secret code.
- My older daughter is 3.5 years old and she is slamming me with the why, why, WHY questions. This...is...trying...my...patience. She is smart and adorable though.
- My younger daughter has a blocked tear duct that will require minor surgery and several trips of 150 miles to have her evaluated. She also has a rash that will not go away and she is teething. She is learning to walk, falling down a lot, and is also smart and adorable.
- I have been pregnant or breast feeding for the last 4 consecutive years; this cannot be helping the FBWB syndrome. I have heard other mommies refer to this as mommy-brain. Usually as I am writing, I have at least one kid screaming and/or one grabbing for the breasts. Someday I will have my body back and I hope my brain makes it through fairly unscathed, when the rust and fungi are removed from my mechanical writing apparatus.
I hope I don't sound whiny; I am grateful for all of the love in my life. I just wish all things could be blamed on the FBWB. If you find a cure, drop me a line...I am sure my brain will pick it up, process it, and apply it someday once the coffee and nonfat double mocha treatments are complete.