A very special type of writer's block, one that I excel at. It's the lingering apathetic whinging sort of writer's block. You know what needs to happen, you could write it in your sleep. However, a cloud of blank, mind numbing apathy keeps you staring at the infuriating blinking line of your document that eggs you on. When your editor says, "Just write a page" you know exactly how to fill that page, but your shoulder lifts and drops and you make a wavering "eeehhhnn" and continue staring

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Oh mah goodness, this will be a fun blog filled with sketches and rambles about life. Well, my life. I don't know about your lives, I hope they're going swimmingly though. Or, snowingly? I don't know what the winterized version of that statement is.

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If you've stumbled onto this blog, then you probably are here from my story, When Stars Wink. Otherwise, why on earth are you here? I mean, it's great to see you and all, but you should probably go read the story first, right? You go do that. I'll wait.

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