Expanding Lizards

Well, I am getting bigger.

No, I am not putting on weight.

The fine (and often controversial) gentlemen over at the LDS/Politics blog, The Spirit of the Law , have asked me to be a contributor to their blog.

I am honored by the invitation and excited for the opportunities. It is a chance for more writing, more discussion, more debate, and more exposure. Rest assured: my work here will not suffer by the additional writing responsibilities. (As if it could suffer much more than that which my blogpression and NaNoWriMo burn-out has already caused!)

Bliss and Embarrassment

Embarrassment because it's been two months since my last post.

Unfortunately, my blogpression is even deeper than I feared and still has me tight in its grasp. I hardly ever even read my favorite blogs any longer. Would that make them my once-favorite blogs? Perhaps technically.

I just don't seem to have much joy anymore. Certainly no bliss.

Don't get me wrong: my LW and the Horde are a joy. Even the noise they make -- as hard as it is on my usually-aching head at the end of the day -- is music. They are my life and, honestly, the only thing that keeps me going some days.

All right, you caught me: most days.

I sat in my car this morning in the parking lot for several long minutes. All I could do was sit there, thinking, dreading the day. It took every ounce of physical strength and mental/emotional will power to leave the car and walk the fifteen steps into the building. Every minute today was torture. Not "Nancy Pelosi woe is me I voted for water-boarding before I voted against it even though it gets results and really is not considered torture compared to what the enemy does to our soldiers" kind of torture. More "being forced to listen to Nancy Pelosi read Maya Angelou poetry" kind of torture or "simply being forced to be in the same room as Nancy Pelosi" kind of torture.

And it is getting worse every day.

So back to my embarrassment: I hope that the readers I have will not have given up hope on me. I am trying; really, I am, despite all appearances.

I say I have little joy. That is not to say I do not have hope: I cannot blame my blogpression on the country's turbo-powered faster-than-light descent into Hell slavery economic destruction Socialism, even though it appears that the vast majority of those in Washington, D.C. -- on both sides of the aisle, mind you -- seem to be using Atlas Shrugged as a game plan for ruining running the country.

[Aside: if you don't understand what I mean, pick yourself up a copy and read it. It's not just fiction anymore. The book's sales have also, in the first four months of 2009, tripled the total sales in all of 2008. Sheep People are waking up out there. Get it. Read it. And ask: "Who is John Galt?"]

No, I am not without hope. Just last month, a Prophet of God, His representative on Earth, Thomas S. Monson, urged the world to be of good cheer and have joy, and to have faith, and to never, never despair.

OK, so, I've already admitted here that I am falling short on good cheer, joy, and despair. Oops.

But I do have faith. And hope. And a loving caring family.

I am striving -- truly I am -- for good cheer, joy, and to remove despair.

I am also striving for my bliss.

"Bliss" has been much on my mind for the past year or so; my buddy JR in Salt Lake has a 50-year-old cousin that I've met a couple times. This is a really down-to-earth man who gave up the practice of law 4 years ago when the bankruptcy laws were changing. He started working with mortgages and saw the writing on the wall LONG before most of the rest of us did. He then dabbled with other areas of the law for a couple of years.

Then, a year ago, he abruptly up and quit to focus on his photography. He's loved photography, as a hobby, since he was in his twenties. JR has sent me examples of his work -- absolutely terrific work. I particularly like his floral work. He did some Olympic photos from the 2002 Olympics in Salt Lake that are stunning. One is a composite piece that I haven't seen anywhere else: it shows all the different photo-wrapped buildings, at night, all aglow, with fireworks in the background -- a seamless, amazing piece, even though there is no one spot in the Salt Lake Valley from where he could have taken one photo and show all the buildings.

But I digress.

This is what he does now. My buddy JR says that he's never been happier.

I truly envy him. I have gone to a couple of his shows, not just to give him moral support, not just to revel in the art, but also out of selfishness.

Yep. I think it is an act of selfishness, so that I can feed off that joy of his, to glimpse someone who is truly happy.

I truly cannot imagine anyone in this specialized field of bankruptcy work who is truly happy. No one I know gets any real joy out of it; oh, there are those who seem to enjoy it, but they're always so angry about something and are more confrontational than anything else. I cannot classify that as joy. Even those who are very good at it are certainly not happy or joyful.

Is this what adulthood means? I hope not.

Even when we help someone who truly needs our help, when we truly do Good, those feelings do not last long in the bruising, crushing, daily emotional miasma in which we bankruptcy attorneys live.

I know my friends in Salt Lake, JR and J, are not happy.

I know I'm not.

That's why I'm looking for my "bliss" whenever I have a chance.

I hope one day to find it and throw all this to the wind.

Or, barring that, to hire a junior attorney to do all the work while I manage the firm.

And still hunt for my bliss.

Quote of the Day -- Mar.2, 2009

“Don't try to confuse the issue with half truths and gorilla dust.”
--Bill McNeal, News Radio

There's a lot of half truths and gorilla dust in the media lately. It's kinda causing a resurgence of blogpression, to be honest. Between that and the fact that we have filed more cases this month than any month (per number of days) in the past three years, I have not had time to post much. I regret that and apologize to all of my readers.

Well, that combined with the utter fear to say anything about the O-Messiah for fear of a visit from either the Secret Service or his proposed personal army of brown-shirt enforcers public security forces.

For now, I am still here and everything is all right.

I will be back soon, I promise.

The End of the Tunnel?

It has been awhile, gentle reader. But I think I'm back. or almost, at least.

I was going to entitle this post "Coming Out" but then I figured such a title would generate lots of the wrong sort of traffic.

But what does "The End of the Tunnel" mean? It means I think I can finally see that glimmer of light. The glorious dawn to the dark night of Blogpression.

You see, I was able to write this morning. I was able to write and it seemed to open the floodgates.

You see, ever since the end of NaNoWriMo--that is, ever since 11:30 p.m. on November 30, 2008--I have been unable to write anything of substance. No creative writing. No journal entries. I have even had difficulty completing essential client letters. I do not even want to THINK about the trials that the Sunday School lessons and other Church work have been.

But this morning as I stood in the shower, an entirely new scene for my NaNoWriMo novel presented itself, full-blown and complete, in my head. [Aside-- My LW and I have the same creative oddity: a hot shower in a steam-filled bathroom causes our creative juices to begin flowing. Are we alone in that? Maybe science could provide an answer.... But many was the time in November that I would reach a total impasse with a scene or a little piece of character development. I could be blocked all night long, but within minutes of stepping into a hot shower, BAM! There was the phrase or image I needed. I took to keeping a notepad in the bathroom so that I could write the words down as soon as possible. And yes, I do apologize for the image of me, in the shower, writing.]

It came fast and forceful, like a sledgehammer. I could actually SEE the characters interacting and hear their voices again. There were even smells in the scene. I quickly finished my ablutions and grabbed my notebook and started scribbling.

The mental floodgates were opening.

That scene led to another. Phrase by phrase, image by image, I quickly filled three pages of my notebook.

I did not want to stop.

Let me repeat that: I did not want to stop. After a month and a half, I actually wanted to write. On top of that, I was actually receiving words from my muse.

I am working on some other, future posts, delving a bit deeper into the reasons behind my blockage. I have been analyzing myself for the past few days and I think that is part of what helped thaw the icejam. Do not get me wrong: there are still some mighty big chunks of frozen imagery in my brain, and they're banging around with the randomly floating wooden words, crushing most of them and only occasionally letting a log through here and there. But it is breaking down.

And it feels good.

I think I may be back.

Punctuation!?

My battle with Blogpression continues, but it seems to be getting a little bit better.

For now, take a gander at this:

You Are An Exclamation Point

You are a bundle of... well, something. You're often a bundle of joy, passion, or drama. You're loud, brash, and outgoing. If you think it, you say it. Definitely not the quiet type, you really don't keep a lot to yourself. You're lively and inspiring. People love to be around your energy. (But they do secretly worry that you'll spill their secrets without even realizing it.) You excel in: Public speaking You get along best with: the Dash

What Punctuation Mark Are You?

I am not so sure how well this pegged me. I guess I will have to rely on my LW to let me know. I will let you know when I find out more, I suppose.

Blogpression

I apologize for the lengthy hiatus I have taken. I have a good reason.

Alright -- perhaps not a GOOD reason, but a reason.

I have "blogpression."

I realize that I may catch flak from those of you who have suffered true clinical depression. Well, flak away; I believe that I am currently in the midst of a form of depression.

It isn't writer's block: I've been there before and this ain't it. It also isn't burn-out; I was pretty burned out after NaNoWriMo, but this? This is something different.

I am not sure what it is. Perhaps I am still feeling a little post-election let-down. Maybe it's the cold outside? A rare form of influenza? Whatever it is, I just cannot seem to get up the "oomph" to post a blog entry. I still have some ideas, but they just are not popping up as frequently as they used to do.

Is this common with bloggers? Does it always happen at some point? The constant gasping for mental breath?

I want to blog; I want to share my thoughts with you. I really do. I just cannot seem to actually get the words down in pixels, though. Not even a post about religion. Not even something humorous, pithy, or sarcastic. There's always something else that I can do instead. The mere thought of blogging is as daunting as preparing for a marathon. And all of this is really bothering me.

And it's not just writing; I don't believe I have visited my "daily read" blogs more than maybe twice since Christmas Eve. Again, it's not a lack of interest -- just a lack of... something else.

Please. PLEASE, gentle readers. If you have any thoughts or suggestions -- or even just words of empathy -- please let me know.

Yes, I know this sounds like a shameless plug to get some responses. I don't mean it to be. I just need some of you in the blogosphere to give me some hope that this will pass and that this blog won't just turn into a stagnant pool of muck.

Please?