Oh, how I would like to blog again. The words just seemed to tumble out of me last year. They boys would do thier typhoon twin act and I would drive to work in tears, roll around on the reception area floor for a while as I reenacted the morning and then I would find 10 or so minutes in my very busy day to write about it. It didn't take any effort, like a waterfall of crap just waiting to bust the dam.
Now life is less traumatic, the boys are settling down into something that resembles normal levels of difficult and cranky. There are more words and less tears. I actually look forward to the weekend instead of steeling myself against it. I feel like a neglectful parent of this blog. Not that I'm not used to feeling like a bad parent, but this one really eats at me.
I actually enjoyed writing for the first time in my life. School makes you hate writing, anything akin to putting thoughts to paper or type was work. I liked writing for the fun and release of it. It's hard to write in this condition, I can see why great artists had lives full of strife, it was very convienent to their particilar profession. I even stopped reading my favorite blog, Dooce, when her life started to get too happy. The pressure to write about things and release the dam is just not as great when you are more content.
I feel like fun Bobby after he has sobered up and everyone finds out he is actually incredibly booooring. Hmmmmmm..... where to find inspiration now...
Off to the bar.
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