You see, Miss March refuses--point blank--to listen to that wise old saying of Mr. Benjamin Franklin's: "Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." She knows for a fact that lack of sleep has a bad effect upon her constitution, but still she continues to indulge in this ill-advised behavior. (Shame on her!) And so she becomes a grumpy, discouraged, unhappy individual--with a great deal of activity lacking in her upper story.
The second ingredient which has been helpful in sending Miss March over the brink is the fact that she has an enormous amount of writing ideas in her head but is, at the same time, suffering from a severe case of writer's block. This creates a sort of smash up in her brain which is not entirely comfortable. In fact, it's entirely uncomfortable. And very annoying. She wants to write, but silly girl! She can't! And oh how that aggravates her! There are so many thoughts inside her which are clamoring to be expressed--so many joys, begging to be shared--but they're stuck. Stuck fast. And no matter how hard she tries, she cannot release them. Not one jot.
Thirdly then, there's this family newspaper of which Miss March is the official editor. It comes out in monthly installments and Miss M. is responsible for a good deal of the writing as well as the arrangement of the articles. Sound fun? In theory yes, but the November issue is now two weeks behind schedule and Miss March's brain is at a stand still. She hates to be behind on things, but for some reason she can't move forward. Her creative writing abilities seem to have been turned off temporarily, and she cannot for the life of her think how to write an interesting article--though she's done so many times in the past. It's all just blank, blank, blank. It's like a dreaded chore hanging over her head, keeping her from doing other things because she really needs to get that done first; but then never getting done itself because whenever Miss March sits down to work on it suddenly she can't THINK. (Okay, stop. I can't talk about this anymore. I'm going to have a nervous breakdown...)
Add to all this the fact that the past few weeks have been abnormally busy. Miss March has been doing a lot of running around and hasn't had a whole lot of time to sit down and really concentrate on writing. And then last week, when she had a good chunk of time, she went and set aside her writing projects in order to redecorate her blog. (Which was a really smart move, I'm telling you!) To top it off, she was so extremely satisfied with her decorating that I think it must have gone to her head a little, for she began to make grand plans for writing a whole bunch of Christmas posts in the next two weeks. (Really, Miss March. A bunch of posts? You can't even write one post a week consistently. What ARE you thinking of?)
So yeah. Between the newspaper, the intended blog posts, e-mails, and comments, the very thought of writing has now become a most formidable task and Miss March is about ready to hide her head in the sand and attempt to convince herself that she's illiterate. (Wouldn't that be such a relief, though? One wouldn't feel compelled to write if one was incapable of doing so.)
Okay. We get the picture. Obviously Miss March is in a writing funk. Big deal. That's nothing new.
Wait, wait! It's bigger than that. MUCH BIGGER! Miss March is about to go CRAZY! Don't you understand? She's so exhausted, and so fed up with writing, that this may be the last time she ever writes anything!
A likely story. Calm down.
Look. I am attempting to convey to you that Miss March's brain is about ready to explode. She wants so much to comment on everyone's posts, and write dozens of deliciously lovely Christmas posts herself, but the mere thought of stringing words together in that fashion is causing her to hyperventilate. Panic even. Because there's so much to do and so little time. The days, the hours, they're passing so fast--and she can't stop them, she can't hold them. Everything is just one confused mass swirling around in her silly little brain and...well! She may just go kablooey, drop off the face of the earth, and never be heard from again. Of course, if that be the case, then I suppose this is really good-bye.
So long, dear friends. It's been wonderful knowing you. Really wonderful. Fare thee well and...don't forget to write.
|Please. Don't say 'write.'|
P.S. So, all that to say. If you find me unusually quiet around the blogging world, please forgive me. It's not that I'm not reading and enjoying all you dear peoples' posts, it's just that I may have to skip commenting sometimes in order to alleviate stress. Not that I'm that stressed (I admit, I tend to exaggerate a little), but you know how it is. I want to relax and enjoy the Christmas season and as commenting can sometimes be as major an endeavor for me as writing my own blog post, I'm just not sure I'll have the time. I will do my best, though, not to disappear completely. :)