Today I dragged myself out of bed and my Benadryl induced slumber to march to the store and buy some Liquid Plumber. You see, my bathtub is stopped up, and lately I've been showering in a pool of water. I pretend I'm in the tropics in an outdoor shower, rainwater gently collecting at my feet from a summer storm. But even that's worn off, and now I just feel white trash. So as I wait for the chemicals to do their magic, I can't help but think that this situation illustrates the state I've been in lately.
You see, I've had trouble writing. It's not for want of ideas. I have a ton lurking beneath the surface. It just seems that every morning I think to myself, 'tomorrow will be a great day to write.' Or I convince myself that the next trip I embark on will provide me with the space and motivation I need to write. But it doesn't, and the putrid cycle continues. It's like I'm clogged. Something inside me is preventing me from putting my ideas and characters and plots onto paper. Ok, that's passe... onto the computer screen.
Now I just have to figure out what's clogging me up, find the tools to dislodge it and then watch as my imagination gushes out. Man, this is one disgusting analogy. Truly horrific. But i think it can apply to other areas of life... love, career, health, spiritual growth. Not to sound new age, but we all need a little Liquid Plumber now and then to get us back on the right track, or as in my case, so we can take a much needed shower.
