Imperfect

empty thought droughts

Inspired by [Redacted]'s empty head.

Ironically, having nothing to say is having something to say. While pairing problems with viable solutions is welcome, that isn't always possible, let alone feasible. Life throws its curveballs, other stimuli capture your attention, and the resultant breaks can refresh your perspective or even your intentions. Who knows? Expressing an illusory lack of thought may be a gift in disguise.

Even frequent publishers have their droughts. Many of my own lasted a few days or more. Some stretched out to weeks on end. Sometimes, maintaining your presence isn't your best option or one at all. Accepting that imperfection helps you carry on. [Redacted]'s disappointment toward their recent inactivity reminded me of my admission from embody balanced longevity:

For the most part, I treat publishing like I treat hunger and thirst. I eat when I'm hungry. I hydrate when I'm thirsty. I write when I'm inspired and publish when I'm ready. Sometimes, polishing pieces to satisfaction takes longer than an ongoing streak can accommodate. Losses are acceptable; I'm here to learn. I get back on the horse when I can.

Sometimes, real posts just explain how you are stuck. Other times, they merely announce that you still play the game. You say that there's nothing going on in that empty head of yours. Yet, there's so much to respond to according to both you and I. Could our concoction inform our thought more fruitfully than vice versa? I suspect that these points from Megan's Notes on why I blog suggest the affirmative:

When I don’t feel shitty about myself for not fleshing out more of my ideas into blog posts, I marvel at how many ideas and thoughts pop into my head.

I’m currently nudging a friend to blog, not because she knows what she’ll blog about, but precisely because she might discover it by trying.

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