The Curls Have It?

I have started seventeen blog entries this week.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t seventeen, but it felt like at least fifteen.  None is complete and all fall into one (or many) of the following categories: depressing, stupid, TMI, depressing (yeah, I know I already said that), irritating, infuriating or depressing (shut up, I know).  As such, I am trying, yet again, to be articulate, witty, profound and poignant: all unsuccessfully.

Having just returned from the gym I am going to have a shower and pray to the water G-ds to instill me with not only a clean and fragrant body, but an inspired spirit.  I hope to return feeling enlivened and smelling better than I do right now.

Twenty three minutes later:

My body and my hair are now clean.  I have put on the necessary make-up (primarily moisturizer and, duh, mascara) and have Ouidad-ed my hair to within an inch of its life. (  I’ve embraced my curls and I am sure to bump into someone who will comment that they “love my hair curly!”  I will not share their sentiment, but having been pressured to try aforementioned Ouidad I will admit to being happier with them than I have in the past.  Much happier: which goes a long way these days.

The start of one of the many aborted blogs was discussing the inadvisability (and unpleasantness) of having everyone in the house in a funk (which has varying definitions depending upon which family member we are referring to) at the same time.  It was that one which led me to my decision that it was too depressing, stupid, TMI-ish, irritating, infuriating and again, depressing to elaborate upon.  It is also that which has rendered me unable to fulfill my blogging requirements and expectations.  And, truth be told, it is driving me nuts.

When all the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan several months ago, I was devastated by many things, by far not the least of which was my inability to write.  I had trouble constructing a list for the supermarket, let alone anything of any value.  I considered it the nadir of my emotional life.  It depressed and scared me perhaps more than everything else that lay ahead.  It wasn’t even that I was blogging or even emailing all that much – it was the fact that I had lost all access to an original or articulate thought which, to me, signaled the end.

And then I rallied.  I could sit at my laptop (when it wasn’t being used by a certain ten-year old who deemed her computer too slow so needed to hijack mine) and bang out a piece that was meaningful and appreciated.  Many of my favorites I can hardly recall composing…it just flowed naturally.  Now?  Not so much.  Right this moment, I liken my lack of creativity to a closed toilet lid: you suspect there is something in there, but you are reluctant to take a peek not knowing what you might find, in part because it could be ugly and, somehow worse, it could be empty.   (I know that a lot of people make it a habit to keep the lid down.  Around these parts the lid is always open, just waiting for a visitor or an overflow.  One just never knows.  Especially around here.)  Oh, I know it is a gross analogy, but no one ever said this was going to be a fun, classy or easy blogging journey.

Just bear with me.  I am sure I will get my mojo back one of these days.  Perhaps my curly tresses (again: and reclaimed laptop (my mother, bless her heart, just gave Jessie her old one which translates to no more sharing for me!) will give me the slap upside the head that I seem to need.  I hate to disappoint y’all but trust me…the other blogs I started would do little other than either bum you out or make you ever more grateful that you are not me.  I’ve shaken things up with my hair, so perhaps my creativity will follow suit.  No pressure, Ouidad, ( but here’s hoping you hold the magic (curling) wand.

p.s. Special thanks and shout out to HKS of Needham, NYC and Ouidad fame…