Naked Barbies and that time I swallowed my mojo

I can’t write.

There.  I said it.  Well…. I wrote it.  Which totally mitigates my point.

But still – I can’t write!  I came home from and inspiring weekend at BlogHer amongst amazing women feeling rejuvenated and excited to write.

And yet…. I’ve been sitting with this draft open for 25 minutes, failing to complete a sentence.  So I guess I’m going to write about not being able to write.  Oh dear God I’m starting to sound like the Bloggess (Maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all.)

why I write snarky

It was so much easier when I was 6 years old and forced to play out my stories with 3 Barbies, an imaginary Ken, and 2 killer 80’s outfits (there was always 1 naked Barbie, hiding out under the couch with the Imaginary Ken).

At 8 I acted out all sorts of stories with my dolls and cabbage patch kids.  In the dark.  Cause I was supposed to be sleeping.  At one point the playpen left in my room became a Barre even though the only ballet I knew came from my vivid imagination.  Think interpretive dance meets Kimmy Kibler.  Not kidding.

At 12 I had conversations in my head I was too shy to have out loud with real people. In high school I just poured out my creative energy on stage.  I didn’t exactly belong with the cool kids, but on stage?  On stage I was a waitress, a clown in love, a reporter of sorts, a fiancee, a neighbor… On stage I belonged.

Did I write?  Sure.  There were many essays and independent studies, one-liners to collaborate on, and many a note craftily folded and surreptitiously  passed on.

At 30 something the only play I want to see involves little people picking up their shit and garbage miraculously making their way to the curb. The masses appreciate my cooking and thank me for it at every meal.  Sunshine and lollipops y’all.

Blogging the funnies of every day life proved an unwelcome challenge this week.  What the fuck do I write?

Does anemia suck the funny out of your bones or just the life out of your blood? Did I bite my tongue once too many times and swallow my mojo?

 mojo interruptus

So fair warning to all, maybe this week I won’t bite my tongue.  Or maybe I will.  So just save yourself the suspense and stick it where the sun don’t shine?  No offense mind you – I just want my mojo back.