Isn't it ironic, don't you think? A little too ironic, I really do think. Actually, no I don't think it's ironic - I think it's a tragedy! Why the drama? Why the emotion? Because I could be missing out on BIG BUCKS right now (or at least $50) because I can't think of anything to write!
I sit down to type up a blog and the wheels begin to spin...I could write about pretty much anything (I should be able to by now - I can talk about pretty much anything too). But give me a topic, make me wrangle my mind into a little corner of concentration, and...I'm sorry, what was I saying?
I don't know the exact numbers, but they say men use about one fifth of the amount of words that women use in a day. I've always been an overachiever. The words never seem to stop. I suffer from a rarely diagnosed but extremely sensitive condition: diarreah of the mouth. If you say the right word, give me a good topic, I may not shut up for days (verbal laxatives - handle with care). In fact, my roommates confirm that I even talk in my sleep. I could tell you about my job, my family, my car, my house, my feet, my shoes, my teeth, my earrings, my soy milk, my friends, my enemies, my God and pretty much anything else in existence. So why is this so hard?
Even now, I have no answers. As I try to come up with smart-aleck, quick remarks, my brain freezes. Perhaps I need chocolate (hey, I'm a woman - chocolate cures everything). Maybe I need a brain massage. Or it could just be that I'm not destined to be monetarily compensated for my endless amounts of sarcasm and spunk. I think I will retreat to my cubicle now, take some mental Bean-O and see if I can pass this brain fart today...