And now, a word from our writer

And I’m back after a short but well needed break. Apologies for not giving a head’s up about how long I would be away from the blog but my plans for this weekend were changing constantly and I never knew when or if I would be near a computer or whether I would be in my best interest to write if I was. Sometimes the best move I can make is not to write.

Also, I just feel like explaining something about the nature of the blog and some of my posts recently. As I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions there are only two subjects that I consider to be taboo: my job and my relationships (except in those cases where my failure in said relationships is extremely funny. I don’t write about my job because I like remaining employed and I have found that most major corporations are lacking in a sense of humor. I don’t write about relationships because I really try to draw a line between EC (who writes the blog) and Chris (who is who I really am.) My personal life does not need to be shared with my fans in Brunei though I am very grateful for their readership.

Now back in the Kansas City days this wasn’t much of a struggle. Taking out work and relationships reduced my possible topics by about 2% and left me with plenty of time to make fun of Kansas, stalk Lindsay Lohan and watch television. But now that I have moved and have a job and a steady relationship what I want to write about and what I can write about have become two very different things. Not that I am complaining in the least. My life is precisely where I want it to be. It is just that when I sit down late at night to write sometimes I have to struggle a little more than in the past to come up with an acceptable topic and I have a feeling that it shows in the writing. It might take a little time but I will find a happy medium soon enough.

It is strange when you think about the struggling artist, which sounds like a cliché but shows up so often in the historical record that you have to wonder about the validity. Writers tend to be drunken, depressive louts or suffering from so many neurosis you wonder if they actually can get out of bed in the morning. Dorothy Parker is one of my favorite writers of all time and she was as messed up as they come. It just seems to be part of the job. You don’t seem to find writers who are happy, well adjusted and creating incredible, mind altering art.

I’m not sure why that is or why I tend to believe in it. I in no way consider what I do to be anywhere close to art but I just have more creativity when I have more angst. When the world actually is rainbows and unicorns there really isn’t much of a desire to sit down at a laptop and write for a few hours. Real life takes precedence.

Want to end with a Wilco song in honor of Jay Bennett who passed away over the weekend. He’ll be missed.