pencils from my three children’s thirteen years each of school that were left in desk drawers and book bags are sharpened, but touch no paper save the squares of crossword puzzles; why pens are poised useless in cups with ink steadily drying; why my arms, my wrists, my hands and fingers grind and make coffee, carry laundry and shovel snow, open my laptop and slide the mouse over to Facebook, the BBC, or your blog, but cannot open Microsoft Word or the cover of a black moleskin.
Thank you. I know what you mean--and I hope you know how much it means to me that you keep writing.
ReplyDeleteI am glad to see another post. I've been feeling the same way about creating visual art. I am not sure if it's the time of year, but it is difficult to stay motivated.
ReplyDeleteThe business of life can feel like such constant striving, and it is difficult not to wear thin from time to time. I sometimes find it cathartic to indulge, give in, and let myself be carried along for a moment.
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