It seems the only thing I can do as of late is apologize. The Real World still has that firm strangle hold on my life as i've reached 30. For me, it feels like a mile stone that I am happy to celebrate, due to my family's history. This celebration is a double-edged sword, however, since it only causes me to look back at the happier times I had with things. The world appeared brighter for me, I found happiness within things that once believed lost, and that spark returned to my life. Just

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Sorry if I seem inactive lately. This is due to a mixture of real life problems and my sudden mental block when it comes to writing. From the novice of novices to the most masterful of writers, it seems we all suffer from that evil thing of writer's block. I held that muse in my hand and watched the beautiful creature dance around playful with my mind almost fluttering with ideas on how to make stories work. Things meshed so well together while the muse within my mind would tell me "this

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