Griping about a dry spell … or is it?

I’m sitting in front of my laptop, searching my brain for what I can write about this moment. So, I think about today. A lot of happenings, true, but so little to write about. There mustn’t have been anything that interesting to share. OK, what about what I ate for lunch. That came from my sister who now and then gives me samplings of her cooking. I can’t say much about the food, except that it was a delicious dish of bitter melon sautéed with eggs and tomatoes; I gobbled it all up. So, what about my dinner tonight? That was good, too. Oops, too bad, I didn’t cook that either. I bought it from an expensive high-end grocery store in the neighborhood. Can’t tell you how that was made either, except that it was one of the best stuffed cabbage I’ve eaten. Think, there must be something!

I’m noticing frustration slowly creeping up now. Disappointed? No, not really. There must be some good bits I can write about. Nothing? With a sigh, I look out the window and catch sight of a very yellow moon surrounded with a hazy halo in the sky. I wonder why it isn’t red, like the news reports said. Then I realize, the red or blue moon was last night, but I missed it. So, I can’t write about that, too. What about tomorrow? Perhaps I can say a blurb about my appointment in the car repair shop. It’s for the replacement of a bar underneath the front part of my Camry. That part has partially dropped and scrapes the road whenever there’s a dip in the path. Can’t say much about that either, because I’m not familiar with what that part is or what it’s for. It’s a metal or plastic bar, that’s all I know. Perhaps, after my service appointment, I’ll be more informed. But at that point, I may not care to tell you, and you may not care to know.

So, glancing at this big oval-shaped lemon on the table, I pick it up. I can’t write how it’s grown or how it has gotten to be this size, four inches in diameter and eight inches in circumference, given by a colleague at work. All I can tell you is that I gently roll it across my forehead and up and down my cheeks for its cool smoothness and sweet-sour fragrance, as what I’m doing right now. It’s a mindless thing. Against my warm cheeks, it probably has ripened faster.

OK, I’m caving in to deep frustration now. Gimminy crickets! Is that how it’s spelled? Nothing interesting to blog about! No good topic I can explore and joyfully play with. This must be what is commonly called a writer’s block, a dry spell, the muse in absencia, bouncing in a vacuum, or time to give up – for now at least.

But hey, wait! Am I not writing? So, this is it! Stop the griping. Now I can move on. Never give up, I say!

Linda P. Jacob

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