writers' block

You know what sucks? Writer's Block. It sucks because I want to spell it writers' block. It sucks because I contracted it. In fact, given the timing, I think I contracted it from my boyfriend.

You know what else sucks? I'm sitting here at a busy Starbucks. Have a few minutes to kill before my hair appointment. There's a perfectly lovely blond wearing awesome purple shoes sitting in the chair beside me... but she's a hair-player-wither. She habitually touches and pulls and detangles her hair every... let's see... 3 seconds. It's making me crazy. But not crazier than her. Hair-toucher. Maybe she should keep my hair appointment and cut it all off.

I digress. Back to writing about my writer's block. Hey, this is my blog so I'm going to spell it WRITERS' BLOCK. There are many writers, and some of have The Block. And there you go.

Did you know my friends granted me a lifetime pass to use the phrase "and there you go" -- from the dad, a genius of a character, in My Big Fat Greek Wedding -- because I once tagged Nia Vardalos in a tweet and she tweeted me back? Well, I did. And she did. And there you go.

See? I just ran into it again. Sat here for probably two whole seconds contemplating what to write next. Two whole seconds is, inside my head, basically an intolerable eternity. Just as my dad, sister, boyfriend, brother, brother-in-law, step-mom and her sons, my best friends, and my casual acquaintances can tell you. Eternity.

Writers' block as a term is starting to make more sense to me. Bhan's Block. As in, I'm basically getting in my own way. My blog started to achieve what for me felt like some success and so I applied new and increasing, rather than steady and continuing, amounts of pressure on myself to make it even wittier, catchier, bigger, awesomer.

What I really could have stood to hear should have listened to is some advice to just keep doing it. The fact of the matter is that many friends (you know who you are. jerks. kidding.) did reach out and gently nudge me. The more I was nudged, however, the more I felt like the next post couldn't possibly live up to Huff the Magic Marker. So I kind of froze.

Writers' Block is, therefore, like a block of ice inside of which I froze myself.

I hate myself for knowing this isn't Luke Skywalker

The longer my hiatus, the more reasons I gave for not writing. I was really just convincing myself.

Boobs. Just checking to see if you're still reading. After all, I realize this isn't the most riveting article ever in the history of anything.

My friend Ben fancies himself a writer and opera singer, so today I sought out his advice on how to thaw my Writers' Block. He suggested several clever ideas, to almost literally warm back up the way he warms up his voice before launching into an aria.

I even looked up Writers' Block on Wikipedia.

I just paused again. Cracked my back, stared at the ceiling momentarily. Maybe I should put some funny pictures in this article. Meh, I will if I wants ta. (I did.)

The lighting in this place makes me wants ta curl up and take a nap, but my double-shot tall gingerbread latte will keep from seriously entertaining that possibility.

I... think that's about it, kids. Love you, and your shows.