Now that I have an official 'blog' I seem to be suffering from a severe case of writer's block. I find myself generating and discarding ideas at alarming speed after intense analysis reveals them to be 'not funny enough' or 'not interesting enough' or 'not insightful enough.' And, as if suffering from content inadequacy wasn't enough, I have also fallen victim to the dreaded 'word count' monster of my college term paper night terrors. Someone once told me that a good blog entry was 350 to 500 words, and I find myself debating whether or not I actually have 350 words to say about a particular topic or idea. What if I only have 335 words in me on the subject of cleaning the gunk from under the bathroom sink faucet? Or, and knowing me far more likely, perhaps I have 1500 words about the strangeness of Chicagoans dyeing their river green. What then? No one wants to read a 1500 word blog, with or without a green river.


But let's suppose I actually manage to write a blog entry...I still must contend with the disheartening Catch-22 of success! Having written one humorous, interesting, insightful and precisely word-counted blog, I must somehow write ANOTHER one, to fulfill the parameters of excellence I have now set for myself. But everyone knows the surest way of achieving success is to make sure you set the bar low enough. Why else do I consistently set the weight for the tricep press at the gym a comfortable 5-10 pds below what i can actually lift? To ensure success in reaching the prescribed number of repetitions of course. I'm not stupid. I am therefore leery of raising the expectations of my soon-to-be massive readership, so that they click on my blog actually anticipating a worthwhile return on their time. And there we come to the final element of my writer's block. Massive Hubris.


In deciding to make my blog public, the key determinant appears to have been hubris. I seem to be convinced that people would love to read about ME! And no, there is NO basis for it reality, you know, the world the rest of humankind exists in. The world that rotates quite calmly in orbit around a star that is not myself. And then there's Letty, out in a galaxy far, far, away, writing in her 'chronicles' at 1 in the morning. Nevermind that I've now managed to write 395 words about not being able to write. Nevermind that attempting to rise in the morning will be like trying taking out the Death Star with a pop gun. Or that my interactions with family and friends during the day tomorrow will remind them forcibly of Chewbacca as all my wookie-ness comes out in full force. (Who hasn't dreamt of going through the day without being required to answer questions with anything more than a constipated-sounding gargle?) No, nevermind any of that. Because- I. Have. Blogged.