Paranoia Will Destroya

This may be the anxiety talking, but I think everyone is out to get me. I don’t have a Sancho Panza, and there isn’t a windmill within 100 miles of my house. So, this isn’t a quixotic blog post. I’m serious. I think all of you, including my family, want to see me completely whack out.

From a writing perspective, I am struggling with a blockage concerning the crazy robot story. Ava and Caleb are in a room in a makeshift laboratory in Langdon, North Dakota. Breann and Gavin are outside in the cold trying to figure how to get Ava and Caleb out. There’s side plot developed with getting Caleb, Breann, Lena and Clare to a third party (away from Bulas and Cluber), but I can’t seem to make robot-human hybrids with their opportunistic doctors on the run from people who want to own them and cut them, realistic. Helene Troy is distracting me. Over the past three days I’ve written nothing about robots, and over seven thousand words about a cool indie rock musician who gets a break from one of her heroes, and changes the music business. Even the fake people in my life don’t have my best interests at heart.

I’m ready for my actual children, Tay – age 15, Bug – age almost 8, and the Goose age almost 7, to get back to school. All three start next week. Orientation at their respective schools is tomorrow, Thursday. I love them. Yet, my summer has been dominated by multiple cheerleading practice delivery and pick ups per day (Tay), figuring out how to make our 4 weeks of sumemr vacation over two months fun and interesting (Bug), and have the Goose properly babysat and engaged. Work isn’t cooperating. I’m not a stay at home dad type. I like to stay busy, intellectually and physically. Normally I love my job. It’s a great blend. But this summer, I finished one project in early June in Tennessee, while waiting for another to start in Maryland. I have been in the office, in town, and around the house more than I ever have been previously. I’ve learned a lot about my wife and children. They’re beautiful, funny, and a joy. But they’ve had enough of me and I’ve had enough of them. We mean this affectionately.

Blogging is hurting too. I think. This blogher conference in San Diego is making me frustrated in Atlanta. Three thousand women and like six guys converge in Southern California this week to talk about how to make the world less dependent on foreign oil, how to control the debt ceiling, what to do about the Middle East, and whether Law & Order SVU will suck without a full season of Stabler and Benson. I assume that’s what they’re talking about because twitter and the blogosphere is full of “blogher this” and “blogher that”. My writing prompts are either non existent or lacking in inspiration. Don’t these bloggers realize that their words HELP people like me with writer’s block, spurs creativity then entertains you all? Should you hate blogher? No. But I am blaming the convention of writer ilk for whatever awful happens in my head this week. I think it’s fair.

Don’t worry, 8 out of 10 bloggers associated with blogher understand and appeciate sarcasm. I hope the other two are miserable because of this post, though. My Blog Can Beat Up Their Blog, anyway.

I’ll work it out, I always do. The kids will be in school by the middle of next week. I travel to North Carolina next Tuesday for a project that could start soon. The Maryland deal has to start by September or people will be in a lot of trouble. Bobina and I are the best we ever have been and getting better every day. She loves my crazy arse. Maybe one of you will say something in a comment that will get Ava and Caleb out of the lab again, yo and on the run. Until then I will get on my trusty steed, Dulcinea, and begin my search for social disordered adventure.

Today’s song is amazing. It’s Black Sabbath with Ozzy in the lead. Some of you were thinking I Think I’m Paranoid by Garbage weren’t you? Yeah, you’re probably the same people hiding my fiction prompts while you discuss how to sell stuff on your mommy blog at blogher (i’m joking). Enjoy the San Diego sun. My Blog Can Beat Up All Your Blogs. I’m going to get my Ozzy on. Here’s Black Sabbath’s Paranoid: