Sometimes it can be difficult to write. There are topics which can be too difficult because of their personal nature or maybe there’s a certain “angle” the writer is trying to approach. Other times the subject can simply be too “weighty” and the writer has difficulties conveying their emotions.
Sadly, my difficulties are much more ordinary.
I have plenty to write about, but my problem is I am not satisfied with any of it. From our vacation in Massachusetts, getting ready to head back to school, my birthday, and plenty of little parenting things, I am not short of topics. I just can’t stand the approach I have. Tevye is 3 months old now. There is a wealth of material with him and the relationship with his siblings and the world around him. I’m just disappointed in how everything I write turns out.
Instead of writing with any real insight everything has been just a sort of chronological regurgitation of facts or events. Less and uninspiring and more than disappointing.
So what am I doing here? Better still what are you doing here?
I didn’t want to turn this post into some maudlin diatribe of self-pity. And look, I’ve already done that. There hasn’t been any “real” blog posts on here for a while, and now you know the reason. I’m trying to work through the crap that I’m typing to “get to the good stuff” but am finding it even more difficult than usual. It is bothersome.