Or so it feels anyway. I just stopped feeling the urge, you know how it is. Other things got in the way, the knots tangled themselves around other parts of my life, the muse departed for parts unknown and I just didn't feel like it. C'est la vie. Lately though I've been getting that writing itch, and very soon afterward I felt the need to sit at my computer and seek out stock photos for hours on end. It's an uneasy feeling, being compelled against your will, even when you have better things to do, or are completely, terribly ill, and are fighting epic battles with medication and it's evil minion, side effects. Just listen to me, "angst, angst