Just one of the symptoms...

I looked at the date of my last post and was shocked that it was almost two weeks old.

That's one of the symptoms.

I know people who can fill notebooks with their angst, depression, and struggles. They face things head on and pour out their trials onto paper with reckless abandon.

[We interrupt this entry to bring you the latest edition of Chris's ClicheFest: "face things head on," "pour out," and that old stand-by, "reckless abandon." We now resume the regularly scheduled entry.]

I can't do that. My muse leaves town whenever there is a sniff of depression in the air. She's been gone almost two weeks now.

I sat down with a blank piece of paper at the bookstore coffee shop the other night, but she didn't show. I guess all the final-exam crammers and their tutors scared her off. The two paragraphs I coaxed from my rollerball were of the most inane drivel ever penned. I was ashamed of the wasted ink, and had I known of the location of the seedling sired from the tree that gave it's all for the leaf of college-rule, I would have apologized on bended knee. It was that bad.

Today is bright and sunny and there is a gentle breeze blowing after a heavy storm yesterday afternoon. I think I'll go to the golf tournament and tonight's baseball game and see if my muse follows.

For all our sakes.