Stream of Consciousness – Derailed

I haven’t written in a while, so today seem like a good time.  I’m still trying to get my writing mojo back.  I hope it returns before my verbal abilities come all the way back.  But to try and get over the funk my writing has taken since the stroke, I’ll just keep on writing…

That’s it, that’s all I wanted to say.  That was a joke – not a funny one, but a joke nonetheless.  So, I will write about nothing and see what river my stream of consciousness heads down.  I may be mixing metaphors but I’ll throw out my anchor and see what comes up.  It’s like the highway of life; you never know when you’ll find a piece of chocolate.  Alright, enough whacking the metaphors like a weed-eater.

Before the stroke, writing was my craft.  It was how I made a living and it was the way I spent my downtime.  To try not to write it would like Obi Wan Kenobi saying “these aren’t the droids you’re looking for” times 100.  It’s a force and I can only submit to it.  It probably does not help that I’m reading a biography of Mark Twain.  He WAS a writer!  Perhaps I’ll start reading something about a dad who stays home and makes waffles for breakfast everyday…

But that would be boring, unless you have the audiobook of it and were listening to it while trying to fall asleep.  Although, may I suggest a Racheal Ray cookbook for that?   You probably are thinking rather than writing about writing why don’t I actually write.  Uh, because I have to figure out what that means first.  It seems like my stream of consciousness has hit a sandbar.  Though I figured this was a better way to spend 15 minutes than by playing FarmVille on Facebook.  However, if you play FarmVille, I need gas for my tractor.  And that is not a metaphor…