September 26th, 2011

NCC-1701 Nebula 2

Through a haze

What if I couldn't write? At all? What if thoughts didn't get clear enough to be seen in word-form that I could then write down? What if words danced away from me, tauntingly out of reach?

I hope I'm just tired. Or maybe even just a momentary lapse of reason, emphasis on momentary. It has been a long day, and tonight a couple of hours ago I hit a wall just trying to write a comment on a journal. I saw that as a good sign to step away from the keyboard. Because not being able to write, not even at the blogging level, let alone anything technical or long: it'd probably feel like being impotent.

Thoughts are still in that piece of meat under my scalp. Words, too. (Not worms. Ew.) But at that time a little earlier tonight, I had a li'l crisis of confidence. I hope just a little one.

Here I am at this moment, in this blog that's made up so far of seven years of moments, and these are the words that are managing to come out coherently at, again, this moment. Because if I don't do it, I miss it. If I do it sloppily, I get frustrated about it. If I post briefly and jokily, I wonder if it's funny enough to be still worth reading, even if maybe there's not much substance there. (Even with as much as I've smiled at that picture of the two Stephens or chuckled at ninjas with flamethrowers.)

Likely I'm being too hard on myself. I've had fallow times in my journal life before. I've done this in binders since 1990, on computers since 1993, in emails to increasingly large numbers of people for almost as long, and here since 2004. I keep coming back to this way of expressing myself, to me and to others.

And that comment? I'll move on to other comments. It was a comment I didn't need to make. And now that I won't, I can try to think other thoughts!