Losing My Oasis

One of the things that keeps me joyful as I try to raise these ten people is writing.  So when I can't think of anything  to write, a bit of a panic sets in, what if that was it?  What if I'm never as interesting or profound or funny or clever...what if no one reads this...what if I lost what was lent because the struggle for words would be healthier for my soul than not?  Paranoia and arrogance all in one breathtakingly poor pitiful sentence, coupled with writer's block and a computer that keeps moving the cursor such that any thoughts I do scrape out onto the page get jumbled and misspelled and derailed before they are completed, will do that to me.     

Not having something to write feels like becoming tasteless salt, it feels like a form of brain death that must be fought vigorously. I tried reading; hard stuff (James Joyce), stupid stuff (Internet), watching television , (the Super Bowl), classic movies (Westerns with my Dad), I tried listening to classical music, playing classical music, coloring in and outside of the lines, game playing with my  kids, housework, hot baths and hot tea, push ups and yoga, chocolate, noise, prayer and silence and still, whatever seeds of thought were in my brain lay still and undiscovered, layered over by countless mundane and important things, errands, chores, need to do tasks, tests and doctor's appointments, tax forms and thank you notes, dinner and basketball practice, Saint Valentine's day plans and birthday presents to mail.   The winter snow blankets the outside and inside, no green shoots are to be seen, just tracks that have been tread and retread, marring the pristine landscape.  

My only hope, to take this brain that is tasteless salt and throw it out onto the canvas.  Hopefully, being still salt, it can thaw the ice and one day soon, inspiration will grow again. 

Hoping detailing all my attempts to come up with something will allow me to feel less blocked so I can write something.