Inspiration injection? Anybody? Anybody?

It's so weird how little I feel inspired these days. I keep waiting for it to hit me, but it doesn't. Not really. Not often.

I'm beginning to wonder if I've gotten slack with it. I used to be great at forcing myself to go write whenever even the littlest twinge of intrigute would hit me. Nowadays I don't. Maybe it's just a matter of making the time happen.

I know the newish job is still having an impact upon me. It's such a change of pace and it's such a demanding environment. They said when I started there that every single day would present its challenges. Seldom would a peaceful day ever occur. I kind of scoffed and thought "yeah, well, you've never worked in an office managed by me" and figured I'd bring the Zen calm in no time at all.

Well, that hasn't happened. Much as I still enjoy the job, it's very mentally taxing as I learn the ins and outs of it all.

Maybe writing feels like work. Maybe I'm just constantly in a state of flux with no real time to stop and guage it all. Maybe I just need to wait a while longer.

But I'd like to think it's just a "think it, do it" approach needs to be re-instituted regarding writing and those old twinges I once had. I think it's a matter of leaving oneself completely open to the world around.

Last weekend, I was hoping that my problems could be solved by smoking a few joints, since I used to smoke dope and all was well in the world of writing. But for the first time, the dope's not helping. Shocking, but true. Usually it's been exactly the "write" thing. Pity it's not that easy.

I was also hoping the exercise would help. As of yet, it's probably part of the problem -- I get home pretty spent most nights and chilling in front of the telly and grilling some food's about as rewarding as it gets. After all, whatever my life goals right now, at the top of the list is getting my body working how I want it to and feeling fit. I'm doing that, and that's something worth being proud of.

Creatively, however, there's hope yet. All day yesterday and so far today I've been having these ponderous thoughts. Wondering all the cliches, like what makes that person that way and this one this way, wondering on the meaning of it all, and wondering about choices we make. I've been wondering about Choose-Your-Own-Adventure books and wondering about the season finale of Heroes (go, Hiro!). But most importantly: I've been wondering.

Wondering is awesome. It's great. Curiosity is easily the best gift I've ever received. I love my curious nature. When it takes a walk, though, life loses a little of its joy. Working around kids all day, I see wonder at work in every sense. Kids in wonder about just how Duplo blocks stay together. Kids in wonder about just how pretty her new dress is, and why did she get it, anyhow? Wonder rocks. It's just fickle.

These days it's my newest kick: trying to consciously be grateful and full of wonder.

So far, I'm sucking, but I have moments of promise, and that's a great thing. Moments may soon stretch to hours, and then it's literally a matter of time before they grow to days.

And now I'm going to start writing more for the hell of it, without worrying about having great topics, because practice never hurts.

(Happy Wednesday, people. Mid-way to Friday. Huzzah. And Mother's Day is nearly gone yet again. We motherless kids are thrilled about that. Bring on Victoria Day and the three-day weekend! One more week...)