Fizzled

Like any writer (I do like to occasionally use that moniker), I have found myself in the middle of a creative desert. Every time I have happened upon an oasis of humor or an anecdote of anguish it is at the most painfully inopportune time.

Times such as in the middle of the night when I am wanting desperately to sleep, or while I am at work trying to bend the space time continuum to get products to my customers last week or worse yet while I am driving to anything somewhat important.

I tried to be good and jot little notes and memos to myself to keep the various flotsam and jetsam relatively intact within my otherwise flighty brain. There has just been so much LIFE happening it has drained me of my normal creative juices. I feel them slowly restoring and recharging, but I am carefully looking around the corner for the next catastrophe.

Things can always be much worse than they are, and I know there are so many who are dealing with so much more.

I don't even remember my last post. It had to have been pre-5k.

Where are we since then?

One thing that has been drifting aimlessly through my thoughts is the things I miss about CDs.

I almost miss them as much as I miss the popularity of physical books. Don't get me wrong, I love all the thrilling and exciting free e-books I can download to my phone, but I really love the physical presence of a book. The smell. The crispness of the pages as you break the spine for its first reading. The weathered, beaten feel of an old book you have read a million times over and could probably recite from memory. There is something innately real about them.

But I stray from the topic: CD's.

Most younger than my generation may have only had limited exposure to the wonders of the compact disc. How, sometimes, you could fix a mangled and scratched disc with a bit of toothpaste and TLC. Or how we had these cleaners that were the same size as our disc man... Google that if it confuses you young whipper snappers. The attribute I loved the most?

The case inserts.

Yea, most would be filled with band pictures and cool graphics, but I was in it for the lyrics. Straight from the song writer's mind and into this little booklet of musical magic.  I wanted, no, HAD to know what the correct lyrics were. One of the most infuriating things in my teenage world was buying a CD, peeling off the cellophane (that sometimes needed the jaws of life to get open), pulling out the fresh insert and finding it only filled with a couple of pictures and thank you's from the band to their mom, dog, friend, neighbors, etc. Oh the rage.

A big reason this was brought out of the deep dark vault of my mind was listening to music at work. I'd be listening to a playlist on You Tube and it would be one of those lyric videos that some teenager spent hours decoding and deciphering (I remember doing the same thing, but with cassette tapes and CDs, and just in a notebook... I didn't have a computer, let alone internet...). While watching the words flit across the screen I'd notice some glaring error that makes me wonder who the hell dropped them on their heads as children and how many times.

We're all mostly human, so I guess I can forget about it... Obviously this it the case since I didn't think to site one of the errors that set this off...

This was good. We should do this more often... Try not to stay away so long this time.

Oh wait... It was me, wasn't it?

I am trying something new this week. I will see how it goes... You will only notice if it is going well.

Isn't that the truth in most cases?