It has been more than two weeks now since I did serious writing. I have not had the momentum to pen my thoughts lately because of the sudden change in our routine and the minor disruption in our life right now as a result of taking a sick family member home with us. I have lost much sleep as well so much so that I need to take my Mosegor Vita again just so I could catch some sleep.
It has been a helter-skelter week indeed. Hub has been going to and fro, driving, running some errands, and likewise setting aside for the time being his assignments. I have been on a spin as well, tagging along with him and doing some chores especially in the kitchen. My lovey (writing, what else?) has been placed in the back burner for now.  Indeed, when you lose your train of thoughts because the environment is no longer conducive to writing, it is just difficult to start again. It is like going back to the drawing board once more and exerting much effort to gather one’s thoughts and pen them.
But is there I can do over things beyond my control?
I believe this setback is just temporary. And soon I will let my thoughts fly again. For now, I will have to content myself with a little strike here and a little kick there just to prep up my grey matter for more writing challenges that await me.
I have been feeling the needle pricks once more as a result of my “neglect” in my writing regimen. I have had a good start, so far, but issues of consistency and continuity crop up. What good then is a talent if one cannot show consistency in his craft? Writing is not a one-time big-time thing. It is a product of a habit—of constant and regular pushing, of perseverance and commitment (no matter how cliché it may get.)
I understand, that a writer writes… without buts and excuses. There are a thousand ways to kill a cat, so to speak, and a myriad ways to get the writing mind at work.
The simplest and the best advice yet, is this:
Just do it.
 And I have done so… at a fast pace, and in just one sitting. Now.
But what about tomorrow? And the next day? And the next? Will I still be able to develop a masterpiece? One that is a product of the genius (if there was ever such) within? Will I be able to get the flow of words gush again from a spring of inexhaustible source? Will the writer again show up, with a smile on her face, passion in her heart, and fire in her gut?
I just wish I could get up every day with the chutzpah and enthusiasm of a champion.

If only  I  could wake up everyday with the muse still singing to me deep within. Then the 500-word writing challenge that I need to hurdle daily will be nothing but child’s play.