Blank Spaces

Whenever I see a blank page, I have a desire to fill it, to put something meaningful down. I must control myself when I’m in a store where journals, tablets, or just plain notebooks are available. I own too many half filled journals and notebooks. Despite a conscious effort to control my hoarding tendencies, I still give in.

I’m not really a hoarder. Quite the opposite actually. Except with books. I’ve so many that I haven’t read, much like the journals I’ve yet to fill. I will read them, just like I will fill the others. I want to.

When I was in highschool, I had a particular art teacher I adored, and one day she asked me what I would do when I’d read all the books in the world. My answer: write my own.


Something has been lost of the catharses of putting pen to paper. With technology, computers, smart phones, and electronic tablets hardly anyone bothers with the toil of writing manually, it seems. But we writers do; I do. There was a time when it was the only form of writing mankind had, putting quill to paper, reed to papyrus, chisel to tablet, primitive paint to cave walls.


I can type my words, dictate them onto recorder, or express them verbally to another, however none of those methods can take the place of channeling my ideas through the pen and onto a tangible surface. Most of my writing is done via keyboard, but still nothing-to me-compares with the pure act of writing, of using my magic wand, my hand wielding yet restraining its power.


Words on the page. Not the electronic landscape with which our eyes and minds have become familiar, but literal writing. Putting ideas on the page, there to fill the blank spaces.

Computer Take Overs and Hobgoblins

I am far from being technologically impaired. Whenever new technology is introduced in the household, it is my responsibility to learn it and do whatever necessary to make it functional for everyone. That is my duty, head of home IT. However, something bizarre happens when I am near any electronic, digital, or otherwise computerized device. It is like there are these hobgoblins, invisible to the human eye, that follow me waiting for the moment to strike.

Case in point, I’ve been trying to set up a Facebook page for A Wordsmith’s Brainworks. This has become a daunting task. Nothing works correctly. When I try to change a setting, I am taken right back to the page and away from the settings page. I click a link for help and nothing happens. Or I simply get a blank white page. If by some chance I am able to complete a task, such as adding interests or uploading a  photo, I return to the main page to find nothing at all or the computer on which I am working suffers an unforeseen malfunction preventing the completion of whatever I was trying to accomplish.

I’ve also not been able to access the page from my phone or iPad. When I attempt to log in, the little dial simply turns and turns for – e-v-e-r. Frustrating? Yes, rather! And in the basic information section, somehow the wrong email address is listed and I can not change it. I can delete it and put the correct address, hit save, and when I return it’s back to the wrong email address.

Facebook isn’t the only thing that suffers the wrath of the hobgoblins. I recently had to delete my Twitter app and reinstall it because I wasn’t receiving updates or seeing Tweets on my feed that mentioned me. My phone, which was previously my husband’s before my son decided mine should take a plunge in ‘Ol Swirley, never works like it’s supposed to. I have to sometimes press the Home button fifteen times before it responds, and people can only hear me when the phone is on speaker. My husband had not one problem with it. It’s me, he says. Even the laptop I’m using right now is going haywire, the cursor jumping around the page and scrolling down while I am typing (and yes I’m being careful not to press the mouse pad). I could easily round up several folks from work who will testify that the computers seem to have more problems when I’m present.

Sigh. Hobgoblins are exhausting.

I just wanted to set up a Facebook page. Must it be such a harrowing endeavor?