So I was thinking, "I should write something. Get my words out there. Make a difference." I sit back and I ponder. I ruminate. I wait for that flash of inspiration, that epiphany, the bolt from the blue.
Nothing.
So I wait some more.
Still nothing.
Why do my brilliant moments either happen when I'm half asleep or in the bathroom? I think about that idea try to work something clever out of it.
And still.
Nothing.
I pause, for a good longish minute or two. Relax. You can't force this stuff. Think about something else. I mull over the price of tea in china. I meander down memory lane. I become deeply engrossed as to why some of my toenails appear to grow faster than others. My mind is wandering like a pro, just waiting for the right moment to casually glance to the left and find that idea in the rough.
Come on, I know that vein of brilliance is here somewhere.
Moses wandered the desert for forty years, searching. Have I got his patience? The desert of my mind has manna and my thoughts are following my intentions, but they complain about their lot, so my spirit is leaving them to wander. Perhaps when they are pious they shall find their way, and I shall reach the holy land with something clever to say.
Until then though, I guess I'll just have to grind out words and hope to get lucky.
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