#9 Dream

"Holy fuckin' shit, kid," as my brother-in-law might say. Holy fuckin' shit, kid, indeed.

It's been nearly a year since I found myself here, my old stomping grounds. My blog. mr. big dubya: Working Without a Net Since 2005. This home to hundreds of posts - some witty, some profound, some...well...some should have been thrown down the memory hole. Whoa, what the hell was I thinking (or drinking) when I decided that hitting Publish Post was a great idea on that gem? Yikes. Still, it is my little corner of the tubes (corner? tubes? Shut up, he's on a roll.), for better or worse.

What brings me back here after, oh, one week shy of a year from my last post? Karma? Kismet? Fate? Typo? Density? Yeah, all of that. Honestly, I miss it here. There's a lot of history. Hey, five years is definitely a lot of history to some people - Li'l Dubya for example. And Li'l Dubyette and Li'lest Dubya. Hell, they can't even comprehend five years. So, yeah, it's a lot of history.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah...rambling. So, pop quiz: what's the worst thing that can happen to a writer? That's right! Browser crash. No, seriously, it's writer's block. And damn if I haven't been afflicted for easily over a year. It's not that I don't have things to say. Look, I'm doing it now. I'm writing. Granted, it's the ravings of a lunatic or the product of a roomful of monkeys sitting at typewriters - you pick. But when it comes to developing posts with a cohesive theme or some nugget of poignancy? Nothin'. I just stare at the cursor as it mocks me; silently tapping its foot impatiently waiting for me to tap-tap-tap at the keys. Then I click the 'X' in the corner of the browser tab and make typepad or blogger go away. Buh-bye.

But, like any good writer, I found inspiration in the bottle. A few days after finding a Magic Hat bottle cap that read: Condoms Prevent Minivans (which is now sitting in my Honda Odyssey - take that!) - I was enjoying another Magic Hat #9 when I noticed the underside. It read: You Need to Write More. I gasped. I dropped the cap, unwilling to believe in this...this...otherworldly suggestion. It was if Calliope was speaking to me personally.

No. I didn't think any of that. I actually giggled a little, said "No shit," put the cap in my pocket and thought, "This will make a decent facebook status update with the condoms and minvans cap." But, I did feel a bit inspired by it nonetheless. Inspired enough to get off my horse (his name is Woeisme, btw) and at least try to write. Then, as luck would have it, Backpacking Dad included me on a list of The Top 25 Sexiest Dad Bloggers (at #9 no less - are you seeing the kismet? Feeling the fate? #9...Magic Hat #9 - c'mon work with me here people). And after tweeting: "wow - I don't know what to say. You like me. You really like me! #toosexyformyshirt The reply I received from Backpacking Dad sealed the deal that I would find my way back to blogging: @mrbigdubya It's really sexy that you last wrote, a year ago, "going to try to post here more than once a quarter..." Keep 'em wanting more!" Oh, snap!

So, here I am, for better or for worse, determined to get my writing on. Sarcasmed into it by a fellow dad blogger and a bottle cap. Yeah, no chance of this going wrong at all. Please bear with me, it may be like Bambi trying to walk on ice or, well, when Bambi met Godzilla. I guess we'll see.