I've got to confess, every time I've bought a journal, you know, with a promise that I'll: "write in it everyday mom!" I forget. But I'm making an absolute promise to myself, that I will stay consistent with this. Perhaps not with journals but with Mibba in general.
It's always kind of been a challenge for me to write anything halfway decent. I can get the words out alright, and I think I'm doing a pretty god job connecting sentences together, (although those semi-colons always throw me off). Yet, I'm never able to come up with a decent story line. Has anyone else experienced this, a really really bad case of writers block? Like, gee I don't know, seventeen years worth? However it seems like I always get my greatest tidbits of inspiration when I'm just walking around.
Just the other day, as I was cuddling with my bulldog Charlie (he's two, just in case you were wondering) I recollected an instance when I was staring out the window of my bathroom across the street to the house when I noticed a shadow pacing back and forth across the house. I knew an older man lived there, by himself. As he paced back and forth (I could only assume it was him, who else would it be), he would flip one light off in the room he was leaving, flip the light on in the room he was entering then exit again and flip the light off and so on and so forth. This got me to thinking. Why is this man doing this, what has possessed him to perform such a lonely task? I've decided I want to write about him. Perhaps not just in this journal, but in a story. Where I can make out his character, where I can decide what it was that kept him up that night.
I like to think he himself was pondering a good story line, but in actuality, I think it was just loneliness. His family is gone, and now his life is just door knobs and light switches.
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