The sky is about to fall: the prologue

I got married eight months ago today. I remembered just now at 8:52 pm when I glimpsed on the date for the umpteenth time for the day. I am more concerned about not missing my youngest sibling's B-Day than remembering my monthly "anniversary." We did it for the first five months. ESC would write me these cute notes, which then tapered down into SMSes and just fizzled out altogether. I have to keep track of bill payments and whether we are running low on toothpaste and milk and clean socks. Who has time for another reminder?

I think I have Married People's Writer's Block. I came up with the term in my usual self-diagnosis. How else can I describe the fact that I just feel I have been self-editing ever since I got married? (Maybe that is exactly the problem: "Writers block caused by self-imposed self-editing resulting in chronic constipation and blockage of energy and writing channels")

It's weird. I just seem to not have much to say. I look back on some of my older posts and I marvel at the writer I once was. Now, I feel like I write about the arcane and mundane and my entire existence has become so much less than sensational. Yeah right, who am I fooling about being slightly mysterious? Ha!

But when did this blog become mindless recounts of days spent as opposed to something much more meaningful? This is not a "Today I walked a mile in red hooker heels" kind of blog. It's a "Hooker heels were made for a gal like me." The difference? One statement is descriptive, the other, narrative.

I like to tell stories, not just facts. It's just that I am coming up dry these days. Maybe it's time to switch expression media and delve into photography. Whatever it is, I just need to get my shit together because I am the writer of a Twentysomething blog about to turn 30 in less than two months and I better find my voice and say something meaningful soon because in case you haven't already noticed, the sky is predicted to fall on August 9!