Writer. Reader. Part-time hermit. Lol at my own one-liners. A lot. Blogging about whistling in the dark, writing for the void, living, loving, traveling the mists, and finding joy.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Cyberspace Eats Mojo and Promotes Rampant Run-On Sentences
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of us, considering that it is a scientifically established fact (conducted by double blind studies within The Glitter Globe) that most forms of media are not only mojo eaters but joy suckers as well and I think that we all know exactly what I mean by that – consider times when you may have been half awake (or asleep however you like to call it) and you mindlessly turned on the portal to hell (some sheeple still insist on calling it TV which as we all know stands for Terror Vision) so that the talking heads within could tell you how to feel and what to be hungry for and make you long for one of those perfect TV houses where nobody ever cleans but everything magically remains pristine and spotless exactly the way yours would be if only your husband would give you the house elf you have put on every single wish list since you first read Harry Potter years ago but he doesn’t, and your own house still resembles a college dorm; even though you graduated from college eons ago you still have all the books and some of the furniture, and you happily keep in touch with those old college friends and your new friends on Facebook, Twitter, Skype and the occasional heartfelt text message and you frankly enjoy hanging out in cyberspace with all your nearest and dearest instead of editing your novel which is akin to being locked inside the medieval weapon of torture known as the iron maiden, except that there is less wiggle room because there are more pencils, paper and red pens in there with you when you edit than if you’d simply committed some form of treason against your clan and been tossed into the dungeon – which is not necessarily a bad thing because there probably isn’t any wi-fi down there and you’d have to sit down and actually edit that novel and stop gabbing with all your friends and friends of friends on-line and maybe, just maybe you’d find your mojo hanging out in that dank, dark, musty dungeon and then you could prove that once and for all it doesn’t really matter where you are physically when you are reunited with your muse and everything might even have a perfectly happy ending because we all know that house elves can apparate you right out of a dungeon anyway, and even if you don’t have your own house-elf probably one of your friends on Facebook does.