Blank pages

It's a constant source of frustration to me that my idea-times and my blank-post-open times never quite seem to coincide. I try to keep a text document with which to share my inspirational nuggets, but once the ideas go in there, they have a nasty tendency to wither and die, once again forcing me to post a guilt update consisting mostly of links and pictures. (Not that there's anything wrong with links and pictures; it's just that you're unlikely to think to yourself, "My word, that was a well-written link. And those pictures! Why, that's the equivalent of 3,000 words! Truly, this is something I must share with all my friends and facebook friends.")

One of the reasons for this is that I only open up a blank post with which to fill with my genius at ridiculous 0'clock in the morning (which for the uninitiated is after bedtime o'clock, but long before maybe-this-counts-as-getting-up-early o'clock), a habit that tends to cause every original and creative brain cell in my skull to shrivel and whimper softly to themselves.

Part of it is that I'm just out of practise. I haven't been writing as much since I started struggling with uni work, favouring instead the relatively easy point and click of my beloved camera. I'm not saying that photography is easier than writing; merely that it's about a million times easier if you have no idea what you're doing. Which I don't.

On that note... I'm planning to go on a photography course, if I can get my butt in gear. And, with a similar butt-in-gear proviso, I also intend to take up dance classes. That is so unlike me... I've spent the vast majority of my life trying to avoid any and all forms of strenuous physical activity, possibly explaining why I haven't flunked out of Starfleet Academy (surely the best euphemism ever). Fnarr fnarr, etc. I don't know what kind of dance classes to take, but I confess to being intrigued by the possibility of pole-dancing lessons. I hear you've got to have great muscle tone, which I do not. I never succesfully managed to climb the rope in those dreaded PE lessons in middle school. Perhaps I'm setting my sights too high and should just chain myself to a treadmill until I'm thin?

Yes, that's another thing that's been on my mind lately... excess blubber. I can no longer dismiss it as Christmas weight, or hope that if I just ignore it it will go away. The temptation is not to mention it to you lovely people, so that nobody will notice if I fail to lose any of it, but maybe a bit of pressure is what I need. Besies, it's high time I took up some form of exercise.

Besides, what is 2009 if not a blank state? I should make of it what I will.

And with that metaphor I segue seamlessly back to my starting point. Did you see how I did that? Ohyeah. I'm good.