Blocking a writer is like reminding you of childhood memories that you may or may not have even had.

You remember when you were a little kid and you sat out in front of your house on the curb right after a rain storm?  How you would pile up rocks and pebbles making a dam in the water flow?  How you would get mad that you had to pile the rocks even tighter every couple seconds because the water would find the tiny cracks between the rocks and flow through it?  And then, just when you thought you had gotten all the cracks, the water just began to flow right around the dam you made, so you would have to make it wider and higher?

I wish that is how my writer's block worked.  That no matter how blocked I was or how great of a dam was built, my words would always find a way to flow through the cracks or around the edges.  But it just doesn't work that way for me.  When I am blocked, I can't even come up with a halfway witty post to write.  Well, at least I don't think they are even halfway witty. 

I mean, I could write about the spider that invaded my office space yesterday and how I texted my husband for moral support as I killed the little bastard (since I was all alone in the office and there was no way him and I were going to co-exist peacefully in the same space).   And how, when I scraped that little bugger off of my desk, he left a trail of blood in his wake for me to clean up (while completely gagging, of course).  Or how, when I tried to flush that sucker down the toilet, he miraculously stayed in the toilet bowl even when the water drained out and refilled. 

But that just isn't witty enough for a blog, right?

I could write about how the chiropractor asked my son if he was suffering from any headaches since his last visit and in response, Bubba laid his hand gently on his head and said, "Yeah.  Everyone in my class has headaches and has gotten swine flu."  I subsequently had to roll my eyes.  Later that evening when I was relaying the story to my husband, Bubba came in and exclaimed rather excitedly that he had caught the swine flu bug.  He had physically picked up a bug in his room and was convinced that it was the "bug" that caused one to contract the swine flu.  I could also tell you how unhappy I am that the school and it's teachers are placing such an extreme view in the heads of my third and second grade children that they are terrified by every cough and sneeze in their immediate vicinity.  Haven't you people heard that swine flu is a hoax?

However, that, too, isn't really blog worthy, right?

I could write you a story.  Well, no I guess I can't.  I can't think of one right now.  My mind is too full of thought of spiders crawling back up the toilet.  I think I will be holding it until I get home from now on. 

I could tell you my shopping list, but that would be pointless because then when you went to the grocery store to do your shopping, you might remember the things that I needed instead of your own things and then you would get home with all these bags of groceries that you didn't really need.  Then you would have to invite me over to pick up the groceries that you bought thinking they were for you when they really were for me and I don't know where you live and I don't have one of those new fangled GPS systems because I still live in the decade of the 90's and therefore would get lost without directions and even if you gave me directions, I am horrible at following them and the food would all go bad or your dog would eat it before I got there and then it would have been a wasted trip.  So there is no point in me telling you my shopping list.  (Yes, I live with the "If you give a mouse a cookie" mentality every day of my life.)

I could remind you to drink more water in your day to day diet, but then you would smack me upside the head because I am not your mom and only your mom is allowed to tell you what you can and can't eat on a daily basis.  Unless you have a nutritionist...in which case, screw you, you rich SOB for rubbing it in my face that I am fat because I don't know which foods to eat or how to eat them properly (and I am sure if I had money for a nutritionist, I would listen to him/her better than I listen to my own head when it's telling me not to eat the whole box of Wheat Thins in a single sitting).  But wait.  If you have a nutritionist because you need to for medical reasons, then you are exempt from the rant above because clearly you are not one of those snobby rich bitches. 

I could...
I could...
I could...

But obviously, having writer's block is exactly like that little dam that you built in the gutter as a child.  The flow leaks through and around those rocks but the thoughts are stilted and confusing and just plain unusable in a productive, witty blog. 

*sigh*

I guess i will just have to go back to square one.