Strangely Silent

I'm baffled by my inability to have anything to say.  I mean, usually I have things to blather on about, an odd poem or two, a character sketch, a reflection, a question, something.

Nope.

Nothing.

Maybe because my muse is in China.  Maybe because everything is different this year [I'm growing, you're growing].  Maybe because I get up earlier and seem to be leaving my emotions behind.  Maybe too much decaf tea has diluted any creative thought.

Did you hear the thunder last night?  That was wild.

I finally came up with an idea for nano [and by finally, I mean I've chosen one].  Right now, it's called "I'm Gonna Write You a Letter" a la Guster.  I need to outline.  I also need to sit my ass down and write something to submit for Lingua.  And an essay of place.  And three other papers.  Cue a long sigh.

I have spent a lot of hours in the past few days watching Charlie McDonnell and Alex Day on youtube.  If you need a distraction, just search "Alex reads Twilight."

Fun fact: my roommate drew me a picture of Harry Potter yesterday.

Do you know the difference between narrative, narrative discourse, time of narrative discourse, narrative time, narratology, narrativity, and narrative genre?  I do.

And the sermon on Sunday is one of the best I've ever heard.  You can listen to it here.

If you're in Seattle, go see In the Heights at the 5th Ave.  It's amazing.

I can't think of any other random things to tell you about, so I'll probably go back to reading chapter six in the Cambridge Introduction to Narrative [yes, it is as exciting as it sounds].