So I wanted to write something fantastic here. Something dramatic, succinct and thought-provoking. Something clever with words and a twist ending that would have you gasping for air.

But such pressure leads to writer's block, and I think I've had writer's block pretty much my entire life. I've always tried to write little poems and stories and screenplays, but have been paralyzed by my need to be overly clever. I would try to pack my stories with plot twists and clever symbolic devices, ideas that would make you rethink the nature of reality or intricate ways of presenting a story that perfectly reflects the theme.

I had forgotten what was truly important.

These stories were soulless. They were trying way too hard to be clever without really doing what they were meant to do--tell a story! It comes down to strong characterizations. A story can be extremely interesting even without plot if we feel a connection to the characters. If we relate to their emotions and feel sympathy for their situations, it doesn't really matter what they are doing as we just would like to be in that journey with them. I always told people that if a character is well-written, we would want to see them eat cornflakes because we felt so close to them. Why didn't I follow my own advice?

The same thing has happened to my blog. I've had a few posts why I tried very hard to tell a strange or interesting story in a different or unique way. So I sat here for the last couple of days trying to decide how I wanted to sum up the past year. I'm at home now with my family and I swear that every year the house I grew up in feels smaller and smaller. It's a natural time to reflect and I definitely have been looking at the past year. Yet I sat here with writers block trying to figure out how to show everyone what my year was like and make everyone learn something in the process.

That's me! Thinking I can change the world from my blog. How pompously arrogant. :)

I think I should just return to the stream of consciousness that pervaded my original blog entries. I'm reading Chuck Palahniuk's Survivor and it's a deliciously depressing novel. Strange how depressing stories inspire me and make me happier. It's a cool book and I like reading. And um. It's nice to be back in Mississauga, although I tell everyone I'm going to Toronto. And.. um.. hmm.

I can't think of what to say next...