"My future is a blank page."
I've heard that somewhere. It was either an unidentified caller on my cell or a knight with an oblivious intern (Bill Clinton had one of those). Yeah, think that knight thing through, there's actually 2 jokes there, and neither one is good. So think on it, that throbbing turmoil in you temple is your mind revolting. Ahh, there's the grimace. You got it. Ok, proceed. Either way, a blank page is nothing more than an empty promise.
As a writer, it's more of a threat than a promise. We're like vampires and sunflower seeds. The can't pass a pile of sunflower seeds without counting, we can't pass a blank page without filling it. Yeah, I know, the sunflower seed thing is just a myth. Real vampires don't do that. Ok, you've got me there. It's time to step away from the Anne Rice and the Sci-fi channel, my friend. Step into the light once and a while.
See? That's just the problem with the blank page. Some people are indiscriminate about how they fill it. Some people are marking time and filling space with every pithy quote or pabulum placebo that comes along. Don't believe me? Quick poll: Everybody who's tried the Atkins's Diet, slap yourself once. If you're still on it, slap yourself twice. If you're still slapping yourself because I said to, slap yourself again; you've just proved my point. If your still slapping yourself simply because you enjoy it, well that's another issue. Please send my your other interests in an email, I'm interested.
Ok, I'm kidding. With my luck, I'd get a mailbox full: sheets of sheep ready to be counted. Great, now where back to the reaming sheep and filling paper. There's just too much of that in my divorce world. Everybody trying to tell me how to heal, and how to move one.
"put a raw egg in a blender with a picture of MyUnwife. Add Tabasco, garlic and blend. Now drink it."
Wha?
Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the help, and I love the people who care enough to try. In my "blank page" world, it means a lot that you're trying to leave a mark. Thank you. On the other hand, I don't think a raw egg is going to do anything but make me sick. I've already been there: when she left. Why would I go back?
No, here's the thing. If you tie 100 monkeys in a room for a day, one of them will write a divorce advice column. Divorce advice is like a magazine. There's always some kid standing on your doorstep willing to you his.
"just 15 Divorce Remedies will keep me off of crack sir."
The problem is that every divorce is a new page filled with crap. Your page may be great reading, but it's not my page. My page is my crap. My page, MyUnwife, go home.
What we, the blank pagers, have to do, is find a way to tear the filled space into smaller bite size pieces. We need to borrow something that works from each page, something that works for us, and make it our own. Sure, maybe the raw egg doesn't work for me, but if I substitute choclate suryp, add a few cops of ice cream and Kahlua, I think I can swallow that. The important thing that there are other writers out there. Some have filled their divorce space, and are still writing. They've moved to new pages and new things to write about. And if they can do it, so can we. Thank you for for filling my pages, even if I don't copy your words, you're still appreciated. Now if you don't mind, I've got a South Beach Diet book to delve into. It's pages are full of things.
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