losing it

i've lost my edge. that is to say if i ever had an edge to begin with. in my own mind i'm an artistic, free-spirited, wandering minstrel. in my real life i'm just a wife and stepmother trying to juggle a full-time job with full-time responsibilities in the home. and when i say juggle it's more like i'm dropping all the balls and trying to pick 'em up as they go rolling across the stage while the audience guffaws at my incompetencies. i don't think i'm doing a very good job of 'juggling'...

i seldom think i do a very good job at anything. at least i'm not very good at completing anything. my life is one never-ending string of never-finished projects. some are never-started projects - just figments in my imagination that i never find the time or the inclination to put to paper or to attempt to bring to creative fruition...

i'm what you'd call an artistic tease. lots of promises and ideas but i never put out anything of value. i never deliver the finished product. it's like i spontaneously abort my material before i have a chance to deliver the full-term product of my twisted, yet spottily brilliant imagination. i'm giving myself a lot of credit there, i know. unfounded credit as of late...

what happened to the girl who could make beauty of sadness? pleasure from pain? where is the woman who trod the path of personal hell like a war-worn soldier, bloodied and bruised, but marching onward still...

must i wallow in the mire of my emotions to invoke the muse?

where is the balance between the mundane and the magical?

where can i find my voice again?