I've heard of "writer's block", and I've experienced it plenty of times. I'm a nocturnal author, and so I spend my day hours researching the material I'm going to turn into a more interesting book at night. Usually between 12:30 and 3:00am I'll be pounding away in a thoroughly make-believe world.
During the day I use this blog to post my thoughts on "real" life while I do my best to act interested in the mundane processes of reality.
Oddly enough, I'm not having any problems engaging in the faux world lately, but I'm just not that warmfuzzy on the daytime reality of existence for the last couple of days. (Hence--no blogging). For the record, I don't care about Harriet Miers. I doubt that anyone will overturn Roe in my lifetime and don't particularly care if they do. Karl Rove may have broken the law. Again, I don't care. Have no clue what the best course of action is in Iraq, which is good because no one is beating down my door for instruction in that arena. Likewise, no one is hammering for my solutions to the questions of illegal aliens from Mexico, Indonesia and Mars.
That's why I love America. I love that I'm free to not care. As callous as that sounds, I know I'm not special. So I know that almost everyone spends most of their emotional energy on why their coworkers are idiots, the number of days they have before late fees accrue on the electric bill and how J.J. Abrams is the biggest fic tease in the history of television. When people talk about Capital-F-Freedom they usually evoke images of women voting, intertstate commerce and veterans soluting the flag. Lately I've been enjoying the true spirit of Freedom in its most mundane beauty. The ability to get up, go about my business and not let the ripples on the pond unright my vessel.