I don’t typically take to this blog to write about personal matters. I try to keep this page professional, filled with poetry, photography, sometimes even short stories, but the ink well has been dry lately. I have been writing essays and citing my sources, I have been thinking about the meaning of hope, arguments in favor of vocational education, and dotting every i and crossing every t with utmost care for my online classes. I have been devoting so much effort to my online classes, work, and planning my wedding when it comes time to settle in for the night instead of grabbing my manuscript and writing or picking up my laptop to update my blog or write a poem, I crash on the couch cuddled into my fiance and watch movies. Really crappy movies and TV shows. I am not ashamed, but I am upset.
Writing used to be my outlet, my escape from reality, now I feel as though I am being sucked into something vapid. I don’t mind television as an escape on occasion or for others, but for me, I miss the feeling of the words flowing forth from me. I miss the sound my fingers make when I hit the keys on the laptop keyboard or the whisk of a pen across a blank page.
I miss it.
I am not sure when I will have my writing muse back. I am not sure if she deserted me, but I am going to challenge myself to write again. Even if it is something as self-deprecating as this.
Please forgive me for my absence. I hope to come home again soon. And this, these words on this page, are indeed home.