Writer's Block

I used to love writing.

I don't know what happened to me to change that. "Life", perhaps. But i used to love
writing. Seeing the blue ink flowing from the tip of my pen, gracing the smooth white paper and forever changing its destiny and purpose in life (oh yeah, i believe papers have purposes in life, too). Aah, the sweet, sweet rush of adrenaline as a fantastic idea takes hold of my head and i can't wait to pour it all unto a sheet of foolscap commandeered from my kid brother's schoolbag...

Well, like i said, i don't know what happened. All i know is suddenly i can't seem to string together two sentences without hitting a brain-jam. It usually goes like this: I lay out a fresh A4 paper, put the tip of my ball-pen between my teeth, and my eyes zone out to neatherealm. Two hours later i'm still in the same position, the A4 spotless and unblemished - like a freaking virgin. Shit.

By the way, isn't that what they call a writer's block? Ah well, whatever.

Or, maybe it has something to do with my 8-5. These days i feel soooo unproductive. If someone were to give me a score-card right now and asked me to score myself on net personal productivity, i'd give myself a big fat zero. Yeah, its that bad. And nothing kills the mind faster than idleness.

So...here i am, writing my sad little story, and wondering where the f**k i got it wrong.