It's Sunday night and as I try to write, I find my mind lacking in profundity. Too tired, I guess. But then again, blogging at the end of the day used to be the norm, and I could come up with something to say. What's the difference? I'm I just older and too many of the old synapses have worn out? Has the stress of the weekend sapped my creativity? Am I just hoping to slap together a blog post and then go watch a movie on the tube? Ah, maybe that's a hint. No blasted time. There's just so much that I want to do that I end up with no time for reflection, hence when it comes time to put words on, er, some server God-knows-where, I'm at a loss. Of course, if that's the case, the solution is easy--wait until I'm 65 (or 67) (or 70) (or 75) (or...) and start a retirement blog. Of course, by then blogs will all be videos featuring one's 3-D animated avatar with the option of using artificial intelligence to generate snarky comebacks for any obnoxious comments. And I'll still be on dial-up (provided by the Museum of History and Industry's 20th Century Living History exhibit), unable to post.

Labels: blogging, writing