I’m blogging about blogging and I hate it. And I’m sorry to you, the reader, but that’s the situation. Alright, let’s get to it…

It’s June and I’m almost halfway through this project of writing every day. This is my one hundred and fifty-third blog post of 2018.* When I started doing this, it was the New Year. I had a back log of ideas and pent up writing energy from 2017. But that’s all gone. The tank is kind of empty, y’all.

* It should be 158 but I’ve missed five days thus far this year.

This process has kind of been like when you start watching a game an hour late on DVR. You fast forward through all of the commercials and, eventually, you’re synced with the live broadcast. That’s where I am. I’m up to date and all I have to draw on is my daily life and sometimes my days are just days. (Today was one of those days.)

While preparing to write yesterday’s post, I stared at my computer for about an hour and a half. (I would have stared longer but I had to leave to go to a show.) If it hadn’t been Global Running Day, I don’t know what I would have written about.

When I’m not fortunate enough to have an idea occur to me out of nowhere or have one that’s been burning a hole in my notebook, nothing seems good enough when I sit down to write. That feeling is tough. It’s as close to pure, distilled frustration as it gets. I can think of something*, maybe a couple of sentences but not anything substantial enough to sustain an entire post. And when I say substantial keep in mind that my personal qualification for a post is two hundred and fifty words.

* Example of an idea I was considering yesterday: I recently saw a woman in a the window of a Park Slope coffee shop with a sticker on her Apple laptop that said “I Am A Prostitute.” It was a curious declaration to be sure but would my speculation about it really have been worth it? Besides, I was going to title the post “I Am A Prostitute” and I don’t need that kind of traffic.

I’ve already done the “here’s what a typical day looks like” thing. I’ve already complained about my sports teams. I’ve already written about all of the movies and shows that I’ve seen. I’ve written about my parents. I’ve written philosophical brain dump stuff. And I’ve found that I can’t really write humor pieces. I wish I could. I’ve always wanted to write for McSweeney’s or The New Yorker. But my writing mind doesn’t really work that way.

I considered taking a break but I’m not going to for two reasons. One, I said I was going to blog every day this year and that’s what I’m going to do. Two, I’m doing this as an exercise and I think I need to write through this lack of inspiration phase and see if I can make it through to the other side.

I really hope that there’s is an other side.