No Clues

I am having a hard time developing just what it is I want to write about. I think to much about it. In the past, I was able to direct myself and the subject value of composing was about someone else. Having met this hands on capability of exposing who I am, what and why I am thinking in a particular way makes me cautious of my words. So, with this in mind I shall plod forward as an old mule. Stubborn in my ways and not having a direction.

I'll think of something. In the meantime I am floundering and my cat is walking across the pathways between the keyboard, the mouse and settling smack in front of the monitor. His bright blue eyes set staring at me and I am distracted.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, says joyce