A Writer’s Block

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Can she write a book on Libre? She doubts it as she closes the computer with frustration. Her Microsoft Office expired and instead of renewing the subscription she sits awkwardly and wallows in self-pity.

She ponders life for a moment, recognizing her weirdness. She questions how she became as standoffish and quirky as she feels. Most artists in retrospect would state they were eccentric. It was due to their work of art, creativity, that they need things to be so specific, so precise.

Unfortunately for her, she realized this thought process was bologna. She wanted things a specific way because she was comfortable with that way. A writer can be a writer with any form of something to write on. The blank napkin itching to find its purpose other than that of a filthy crumb catcher. A receipt that happened to be sitting on the floor with a shoe print on it is ideal for a random blurb or idea. A rock against sidewalk. The possibilities are endless. So, gazing out the window she sits there, blank, but definitely frustrated.

What was wrong with her? Her hand was itching but the scratch was unreachable. Her head was swimming with ideas but her drive, typically fast and forward moving, was sitting in idle. Her eyes teared up as her head jumped around from subject to subject.

She knew what she needed but was too afraid to admit it. God. More than anything she wanted a conversation with the Almighty himself. God? Yes. God. She had questions that needed to be answered. So long she had begged her friends to help provide her with clarity, insight, a bite of reality. This was not smart. Friends are skewed. Jaded. Imperfect. Even friendly. That wasn’t good. No. She needed something direct. Real. Unbiased. A true and actual response. One that only God could give.

The questions ricocheted through her brain. One pinging her skull after another. All of them directly pointing to purpose, desire, passion, callings, necessity, obligation, and of course fulfillment. This conversation has taken place in her brain thousands of times. The answers vary. She has a vision. A very clear vision. She has learned over time that she is one step beyond most. Those that she’s talked to find themselves longing for a vision. Hers is crystal clear. The cloudy part is society. Life. God. Does her vision reflect His? Going with what she understands, the answer is probably not. The thought of that causes her inner turmoil. Why talented if unable to use it? How do you use it to benefit God? What’s the point if you can’t have fun with it? Why bother if it takes so much time out of your day that you cannot afford to lose anyway? In addition, will it ever prove to be profitable or at the least provide for the family in a way that allows her the time to focus on it?

She looks at the computer screen in a way that is unrecognizable. It’s not office. She’s too obstinate to buy the product that brings her so much joy, because she realizes she needs to expand her horizons. Microsoft Word will come later. Right now, she has to focus on her life. She closes the laptop one final time as she yawns. Hopefully God will visit her while she’s dreaming tonight.

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