Nothing Important to Say

It seems odd to me that during the four years I blogged every day, I seldom found myself with nothing to say, but now that I blog only when circumstances allow, I have a hard time finding anything to say.

I suppose when one is involved in the discipline of daily blogging, it’s not the words that count so much as the discipline, so I felt free to expound on any topic, no matter how trivial or inane, but now I feel I should have something important to say.

And I don’t.

I could, of course, write about the silly book I read today by a brand-name author, where every character used “proverbial” clichés:

Capture the provesmileyrbial brass ring
Out like the proverbial light
Bite the proverbial bullet
Kick the proverbial bucket
Shining like the proverbial beacon
Deer in the proverbial headlights.

If only one character had used the word “proverbial” to preface every cliché-ridden speech, then I could chalk it up to a character flaw. But when all the characters proverbialized, then it was obviously author laziness. Prefacing a cliché with ‘proverbial” has been used so often it has become a cliché in itself. Even worse, it says that the writer is too lazy to come up with something original, but since she coyly admits she’s using a cliché, it’s okay. But it’s not okay, even if you are a multi-million dollar author.

Or I could write (again) how strange it’s been without my car, which is still being prettified. (He says I almost waited to long to have the body work done, but how was I to know the thing would still be running after 43 years?) I’ve been without my car for so long, it will seem even stranger when I finally get it back. But there’s really nothing else to say about the matter. The car will be done when it’s done, and then I might find something to say. “Hooray,” if nothing else.

I could write about all my recent insights. But . . . um . . . um . . . I can’t think of any.

I certainly don’t want to write about my loneliness. I’ve looked forward to being by myself this weekend with nothing to do, but along with the wonderful aloneness came the not-so-wonderful loneliness. I don’t want to seem as if I am feeling sorry for myself (even if I am) because I only have things to be grateful for. I’m grateful I have a lovely place to stay, even if only for a few more days. I’m grateful I have more than enough to eat. I’m grateful I have dance classes and feet to dance with. I’m grateful I have no debilitating illnesses or painful ailments. I’m grateful I have friends who take pity on my unvehicled state and give me rides.

Most especially, if you’ve read this far, I’m grateful for your indulgence. Maybe tomorrow I’ll think of something important to say.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fireand Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

7 Responses to “Nothing Important to Say”

  1. rami ungar the writer Says:

    I’m sure we can expect a post when the body work of your car is done, right?

  2. leesis Says:

    you can be grateful and feel sorry for yourself at the same time my friend. What ever your external circumstances I imagine now and then you feel very new and maybe even frightened of where your life has lead you to at this time. Now…how to solve that loneliness problem…that might be an adventure on its own.🙂 xx

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      I’m only lonely when I’m tired or when I read fiction. (There always seems to be a romance even in non-romance novels, and it reminds me of what I had, what I never had, and what I can never have.) And last night I was under the influence of both. Luckily, I like being alone for the most part. I need to be alone, and I sense that aloneness will allow me to do whatever it is I end up doing. I think you could be right that solving the loneliness problem is an adventure of it’s own. Or maybe adventure is the solution.

  3. Constance Koch Says:

    I think that when you get your pretty VW back it will make you feel better.

  4. frederick anderson Says:

    Ah, the plight of the unhorsed! Sometimes desultory thoughts committed to ‘paper’ speak louder than serious articles upon matters of importance, I believe. You seem to have reached a state of ‘in-betweenness’ if I may invent a word. I’m sure it must turn up in ‘The Pilgrim’s Progress’ somewhere. So many inverted commas! Oi!


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