I think the hardest part of my easy life is the drudgery. There are long periods of silence, or reading children's books, or building awesome towers.
I'm a daydreamer by nature, so in recent months my mind takes long vacations away from reality. I invent characters and have them interact with each other in case I ever get around to writing a novel. I think of news stories I'd like to write, deciding who I would interview and what questions I should ask. I think of something my mom might have told me in 1995, obsess about why she would say such a thing and wonder how long she's harbored a deep-seeded hatred for me.
When I was a reporter, returning from a meeting or interview, this talkive mind of mine worked great. I had whole stories written before ever sitting down before a computer.
Now I fear I grow slightly more crazy each day.
Housewives of the world, what do you fill your minds with? Is this why God created soap operas? Do I need to subscribe to People Magazine as a means of escaping the endless lists being replayed hourly on the Chris Channel? Is this why women have so much drama in their lives, generally speaking?
Or maybe it's just me and I'm crazy already. Whatever. When I'm 50 I'll have a novel just waiting to see paper. How many sane people can say that?
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