Stifling....

Mandeville stifles. Me. Every writer is dependent on the regular up-chuck of bad ideas and the cleansing effect it can have on the brain, so that the good ideas can flow, from lips or fingers.

However, I find myself blocked. Not the kinda blocked where the words don't come and even the thesaurus seems like gibberish, but the kind where emotions elude me. While ideas and thoughts run amok in my mind like men under the influence sporting jet-packs, the emotion to truly capture these ideas and record them to pad or blog seems distant and I'm not quite sure why.

I think I'm holding back because of something that I may have done or that may have been done to me but for the life of me I can't figure out which. The frustration of all of this is one that's almost unbearable. Then again, it could be the claustrophobic enclosure of mountains that cause my thoughts to not flow.

Whether you attribute it to the unpredictability of the universe, some predetermined master plan or some twisted combination of the two, life and all that it contains has ways of making us feel insignificant. We all feel enveloped by the vastness of the universe, known and unknown. To some this provides a certain certainty, that allows them to trust completely the boundaries that nature has set and the established rules we must abide by. Yet we know one certainty to be true still; rules are made to be broken or at least bent.

And so from these mountains, I have squeezed the ounce of inspiration I needed to write 'something'. Not sure how much help it will be to anyone, but I'm once again working my way out of a slump.

T.O.T.D: "If The Writer Writes For Others, He Has Lost The Purpose Of His Gift!!!"