Suffering Guilt Block

I'm working through my demons. I've got guilt blocking me from blogging.

Oh, the amount of times I think of my blog. I love writing and I love writing about my life. This blog was born more than three (four?) years ago. At the time, I worked in an office as a production manager. Looking at my posting history, one might think I did nothing at work. When actually it was quite the opposite--I was very good at my work. HA!! That's not fair. really.

My managerial role was to keep the designers in an ad production studio supported and ensure we made daily deadlines. The reality was the team was that good. My tasks included morning production conference calls; the remainder of my day was to put out fires and resolve problem escalations. The truth of the matter, the artists in the studio were that good--beyond the morning, my role rarely kicked into gear--when it did, it was five minutes before day's end and a working mother's worst wish, but that's another post.

So at my desk, I had plenty of time to write and explore blogs. Irony was this particular company disallowed any internet surfing. Click to any website and a forbidden code appeared. Yet, click to blogs, and viola! I remember thinking how insanely ineffective that IT functionality was. I also figured my postings must fly below the radar, or the IT guys really digged my blog!

My blogging changed when I began working for the magazine. My life changed. I've worked hard to keep my family the same. (Not sure I've succeeded.) I've lost hold of my friends (all of them) and cherish to death those who allow me to lose touch and welcome me anytime. At the height of my blog, I was crafting. Naturally, some of the best bloggers and blog followers are crafters. So I'd like to come back, but I've got a guilt block. Not a writer's block, but guilt. I want to come back with craft. I want to show my creativity and be visually interesting. Meanwhile my mind is bursting and my hands have not known craft for two or more years, beyond the odd project.
So I've decided to come back with or without craft. The creativity will follow, I believe.

When Words Stiffle Us
Last night I had the most vivid dream. It was unreal. This morning it was our entertainment at breakfast.
I was in Disneyland Japan with a tour of quilters. There was one lady who kept trying to steal people's valuables while we stood in line for the park's rides. I was asked to mind someone's camera and caught this lady in the act. Holding tight to her hand, I summoned the park police and told the theft she would be left behind in a Japanese jail. The Japanese cops arrived--they were two sumo wrestlers in police uniforms with a third regular-sized dressed cop. They let the thief go. I went to the cop upset asking why they let her go. He explained that they had to honour the tourists and airlines so as not to cause problems. I began talking fast with my annoyance of this, and the cop raised a microphone to my face and suddenly some liquid sprayed out the end much like a clown's trick water ring. Only, once this water hit my mouth, my lips went numb and my words were drooling slurs. Ultimately. I became the one who missed the flight out of Japan.

Back in reality, we laughed hard.
The girls wondered aloud if there was a Disneyland in Japan.

DH wondered aloud where one could find that special liquid.

And I , well, I wondered if it was time to return to my blogging.