A writer’s block.
That’s what my mom called it.
I told her at our family dinner tonight, Sunday, I had a paper due the next morning, and after spending time working on it Friday and Saturday, my mind was… as blank as my moms plate. She wasn't eating anything. This was either because 1. My mom didn't want to eat any of the ribs because she knew I was going to eat them if she didn't or 2. She really was full from all that crap she said she ate when she was actually hungry. My mom said she was disappointed she got full on crap when she was really hungry, knowing that there were delicious fall-off-the-bone ribs only a couple hours away. Humans are lazy, man. That reminds me of a quote that gave the struggle of not being lazy a new angle, “To sacrifice what you are, for what you will become.” My mom could have sacrificed being hungry for two more hours to be able to feast on those saliva inducing, juicy, bone sucking ribs. I like ribs. And I probably wouldn't have been able to eat as much as I did if my mom ate some.
So thanks mom.
That reminds me of this paper framed on my moms sink thats titled “A Young Mothers Prayer” and it talks about how the writer wants to be able to guide her children down the right road and do so with kindness blah, blah, blah. First off, I don’t know if it would still apply to my mom because she’s not really young, or just not a young mother because she has a boy bigger than her that’s going to college next year. Or maybe she still is a young mother because she has a little boy that still whines when he’s told he has to go to bed at 7:30. Either way, I think she is doing a fine old job at parenting. I can say this because I’m sitting here with a stomach full of ribs and with the right mentality and thought process to be doing my homework, when I could be doing other things, because she taught me that school is important. Ha, I’m sacrificing!
This paper is a laughable thing because my mom joked, when I told her I was uninspired at dinner, to write about my love for ribs. And so far my writing has kind of centered around ribs. My moms freaking me out a little bit now. Well, she freaked me out a little bit earlier too. She ran into a mailbox and a street sign today. I mean, with four wheel drive, how do you do such a thing! It’s ironic because I’m usually telling my mom to drive faster. Ohhhh boy does it get to me like no more ribs on a Sunday night when she’s got her coffee cup in one hand, and the other on the steering wheel, going twenty miles per hour in the 21st century like I’m not going to be late for school. I’m lucky though, my first period teacher has let me fall off the bone way too many times.
Man, writer’s block sometimes hits you like a big, thick slab in the face!