Inspiration Can Suck My $#@&$

This thing does not exist.

This thing does not exist.

Pictured left: a Muse.  One of the 9 goddesses of song, poetry, dance, and the arts as a whole.  It was said that artists were the moutpieces of these goddesses, that when the muses spoke to them it gave them inspiration.

I have this to say to these so called goddesses:

Suck my %$#@&.

Why? Simply put, the idea is ridiculous.  I have been writing long enough to know that when I write a post, I’m the one writing it.  Inspiration comes from ideas that I get, not some decrepit old hag.

Even the posts I enjoy writing and come quickly to me are my writing.  Even if a 750 word long post takes 5 seconds to type, that’s all me baby(although I do wish it would happen more often).

So, I know what my problem was.  I thought that inspiration was just going to happen.  Well, it’s not.  Phil needs to get off his @$$ and actually look for things to inspire him.

Well hey! Here’s proof that it works: every single entertaining post I’ve ever written.  The posts were inspired by feelings I had about something, anything, and they did very well! Hell, I read most of my old blog last night in an attempt to understand how I managed to write before.  Without meaning to be completely egotistical, it was actually readable.

So I know I can do it, but when I wrote last night’s post I had no clue how to do it.  I then get a call from Lorelai.

My god I love that woman.  She’s so smart.  This blog isn’t about my life, far from it.  It’s about shit I see in my life, and my opinion on it.  It’s a slight difference, but a very important difference.  She pointed that out in just under 5 seconds while it took me about an hour to come up with nothing by myself.

So what does this mean? That this blog is about to get entertaining if I have anything to say about it.  If there’s one thing WoW taught me how to do other than write, it taught me how to QQ about anything I put my mind to.

When it comes down to it, I can’t sit on my tush and wait for inspiration to hit me like a drunk mugger in an alleyway, I have to hit it first by finding it, beating it to a bloody pulp, putting on a mask and calling myself Batman.

I’m Batman.

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