My god.   This is what it's come to, blogging, where creativity comes to die.  Have I truly used up every other means of self-expression?  If nothing else I'll consider this an exercise in "creative writing", something I haven't done for a while.  Wow, I'm already having doubts about this, how do I phrase things?  Do I take a coloquial style or should there be an air of formality?  Do I admit I've spent the last ten minutes trying to think up a joke sentence for the comedy rule of threes, or just move on with the writing process?  These are the questions that gnaw at men's souls.  

I feel almost compelled to start taking notes in everyday life, it's a strange thing that's just come into my head recently.  I want to start documenting what's happening.  The irony here is that my life isn't actually interesting enough to warrant documentation, the ongoing life of a 27 year old who spends as much time doing laundry as he does anything else does not make an engrossing read.   So why the compulsion?  Why the sudden feeling that I should start writing again?  

Re-reading what I've already gotten down it feels choppy.  My style hasn't changed much since the days when I used to work on a high school newspaper.  I guess writing is a muscle, if you don't use it then it atrophies and you're left wondering why you're writing in the first place and hoping no one ever sees this terrible mess you've made.  Oh what a mess it is.

So what do I do?  Do I start carrying a notebook around, looking like either the worlds biggest creep or a 1950's newsman?  Do I attribute this all to a misplaced fancy of becoming a writer?  I suppose only time will tell.