I just read an article which stated "five minutes of writing a day is better than two hours at the weekend" which reminded me of my favourite saying. (How do you eat an elephant? A little bit at a time). It then struck me how few blogs I had done lately and the value of keeping them updated. No matter what my thoughts are, they are important in the creative process. But of course during a 24 hour period things happen and they are instantly forgotten regardless of how newsworthy they may be. So the lesson is, even writing today about things which have happened during the week is a loss. It has got to be done at the time, otherwise it's gone. Gone into the great creative ethereal mist in the sky, the one which stands on the outskirts of every writers consciousness when they have hit the wall of "writer's block." Though I have heard it say some people don't believe such a thing exists. It does. However there are exercises for getting out of it, there is in a sense a recovery program. Though I expect it is a lot easier to recover than an alcoholic or drug addict, because writer's block doesn't mean you are drunk or stoned. Even if some would say being stoned and drunk is a good way to get inspiration. I think I'll just leave my coat on the hook and not take this any further before it gets out of hand. Like a rolling snow ball, so to say.
Just to mention how little Monster Boy managed to take me to the edge of exhaustion a few days ago. After a long and tedious day at the Fish Factory, where boredom is given a new depth, one which plunges deep into the reserves of even the most buoyant of persons. I decided to check up on the little rascal to see if he'd like to go out for a walk. Earlier I had promised to see him because he wanted me to sit and chat about Marvel superheros, of course. They are the only thing which matters to him and so they should be for an 8 year old. However, he decided it wasn't Marvel characters he was interested in. It was a nice walk to the park. Although there are a number of play areas locally, he wanted to walk to the one furthest away. The thought of walking a mile down the road on my mind was like a stone being dropped into a pond. I sank. Unfortunately I was under an obligation to him. I said to him it wasn't a good idea because the gangs could be out. But he didn't heed any of my concerns, he just wanted to go there. Apparently he had been cooped up all day in the company of his nan or his mum and neither had sort to wear his batteries out. So rather reluctantly I agreed, but said we had to be quick because it was getting late. He enjoyed it. His laughter was complete and so joyful it made me happy walking there. I stayed as long as I thought was enough, even though Monster wanted more time and we headed back home. I dropped him off and was exhausted.
It's amazing though what you will do for children even when you're not up to it. I sure hope one day in his future life he remembers it and takes me out when I'm in my wheelchair and needing some air.
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