I Got Nothing. Notta. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

Before I begin, let me first apologize to my high school composition teacher. I realize proper English is "I have nothing" not "I got nothing." But if you are going to circle that phrase in red ink, then you must also circle the made-up word "notta" that I used in the title as well. However, before your pen goes on a whirlwind of i-dotting, t-crossing, circling, underlining, crossing out and the insertion of those little condescending carrot marks that indicate that I'm a dumbass and I should have said this or that instead of what I originally wrote, let me stop you. Let me ask you to take a little pity on the grammatically incorrect and ignorant, rambling fool that I am. There will be plenty of time to rip me apart on my term paper, but for today and for just this one time, have a little heart. Spare me the wrath of your red ink and lend me your sympathetic ear. Today, as much as it pains you to hear, I care not about my spelling or poor grammar. Improper sentence structure, misplaced punctuation, and the confusion of past and present tense does not matter to me right now. Because unlike my usual obsessive compulsive editing and re-editing, striving for perfect but forever failing writing style...I'm just going to get it all out. Get it all down on paper so it's no longer inside of me, haunting me. I'm going to write like no one is reading, because it's much more freeing that way. If that is too much for you to bear and your hand begins to tremble and itch with red ink fever, then look away now.

You may recall this recent post, "Giving A Toast Isn’t Hard, It’s Composing It That’s Hard!" And now with my sister's big wedding day fast approaching, I am still speechless! There is only 5 short days left and I have yet to write a single word on paper! I'm starting to really freak out now. It's crunch time, the pressure is on and I'm failing miserably. Was that a figment of my imagination or did I used to be fairly decent with words? Where is the writer within me? He has vanished without notice and without a trace. In his midst, he has left this shell of a man. A man that lacks the flowery prose needed to compile a best man speech. Some best man he is!

Perhaps a freelance writer I could never be. I seem to crack under writing pressure. This is a true test with a deadline just around the corner and I got nothing. Notta. Zip. Zilch. Zero. My long standing love affair with pen and paper has ended. Yes, the honeymoon is officially over. The joy of writing has morphed into a deep, ugly hatred of mine for the written word. As of right now, our relationship is bitter and vile.

At this moment, all I am going on is hope and a prayer, literally. I'm hoping something will come to me and I'm praying it does! Although I've NEVER drawn such a blank like this before in my entire life. Without a doubt, this is the most extreme case of writer's block I have ever known. I wish it was a stranger or mine, but lately it's been like a best friend. Well, an enemy is more like it. It creeps up on me late at night when I lay my head down to sleep and it penetrates my mind everyday when someone asks me how the best man speech is coming along. It's NOT coming along. That's the problem! Ugh! The frustration overwhelms me. I want to scream and pound my forehead on the mahogany desk in front of me. Actually, I have smacked my head on the desk in hopes it would jar my brain into some aw-inspiring thought I could jot down in Shakespeare fashion.

Still, I got nothing. Notta. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

May God have mercy on my soul.