It didn’t take very long. The anxiety attack that comes with the pressure of writing. Every time I start a blog I am only a few posts in before I start freaking out and feeling blocked.
(OH MY GOD I’M NOT FUNNY ANYMORE!!!!!)
Its like that horrible dream everyone has where you’re naked in public. Either everyone is laughing at you or nobody cares. I always have this dream combined with waitressing (apparently not a real word). I am in a very expensive restaurant the size of a football field and I am the only waitress on the floor. I am of course naked, and not in a good way. I have about 150 tables and there are orders that I forgot to put in weeks ago.
For me this is the mother of all anxiety dreams.
As for writing I always start off with awesome intentions. When I first started this blog I didn’t even give a crap if anyone saw it. You know, just practice. Start typing. Stop fucking around. I did three posts in three months. Then my personal life took a little dive and I felt the urge to purge. Now I wake up every morning (naked) freaking out because I have nothing to post. I realize I don’t have to spill my guts here every time I write, but it feels like I should. Guts get the most likes. The more you bruise and bleed the better your writing. Anyone remember the ending to the Scarlet Pumpernickel? One of the masterpiece Looney Tunes involving the late great Chuck Jones.
As I am not able to deliver a postmortem punch line like Daffy I think I need to try a different tactic. Any suggestions or encouragement from the Peanut Gallery would be helpful and appreciated.