I don’t have anything interesting to say today. Trust me, I thought of everything. But nonetheless, no quirky anecdotes, no off-color references or mildly offensive dialogue to offer. The words just aren’t there. Only a blank screen with a brown and sticky keyboard, because I thought a fudgesicle might get the creative juices flowing. It only slowed me down; part of me knew it would.
What else is there to say? Sometimes you’ve got it, sometimes you don’t. It doesn’t happen often, but all I’m working with at the moment is an empty head and a full sweater, which, if I were a bouncer, would put me on a fast track to becoming head of bar security. But if your job is to write something people will read, it doesn’t do a thing.
Nope, all there is to do is sit and sing the blues.
It’s not a good feeling, being unproductive. But at least I’m getting paid, right?
“That’s a horrible outlook,” my conscious says. “Buck up, squeeze something out, anything. But don’t just wallow in your chair and make up lame excuses.”
He’s right. I had some lame ones, too, like: “I wouldn’t be so groggy if I hadn’t been up all night worried about Jane Seymour, who couldn’t perform on ‘Dancing with the Stars’ because she’s sick with food poisoning.”
But if excuses aren’t allowed, what can you do when things aren’t going your way?
Stealing ideas from other people seems like a good start. So I read a few columns in different newspapers to see what I could pirate from them, but that only made me feel worse, because their stuff was way better than mine.
Frustrated and sad, I did what anyone at the end of their rope would do – I called my mommy.
“That’s a horrible outlook,” my mom said. “Buck up, squeeze something out, anything. But don’t just wallow in your chair and make up excuses.”
Damn! I was hoping for a “don’t be so hard on yourself,” or a “I’m sure it’s not so bad. In fact, I bet you’re doing great. Why don’t you forget all about it and I’ll make you some lasagna.” Instead, all I got was tough love.
It’s not always a bad thing, that tough love. It might not be what we want to hear, but sometimes a little shock can go a long way. I always think about that famous “Snap out of it!” scene in Moonstruck, when Cher smacks Nicolas Cage across the face in the hopes he’ll get his get act together and leave her alone.
There’s not enough of that anymore. Instead of addressing problems, we address people’s feelings, which isn’t always bad, but it isn’t always the same as fixing what’s wrong with them.
It’s not being insensitive. In fact, I’m a feelings guy all the way. But I can also smell B.S. a mile away, and it’s usually my own. And when I say B.S., I mean milking being stuck in a rut for all it’s worth.
In my opinion – not saying I look forward to people dishing out my own advice on me – the best cure for the blues is a good kick in the butt. Like it or not, it always seems to work.
Save the hugs and the tears of joy for when you get back on track. Consider that a good dessert after what’s been a lousy dinner.
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