I don’t like the idea of having to “earn” someone’s respect. To me a great deal of the world’s woes derive from people making entirely too much effort in finding reasons to dislike and harbor grudges against each other. In short, to disrespect one another. It’s a very simple idea, perhaps over-simplified, but I think we’d all do much better by respecting each other by default.

Personally, I prefer to give everyone my respect from the get-go. You, by the virtue of being another human being, are my equal in my eyes. It’s from there that your actions and beliefs retain or lose that respect. And that’s not meant to sound judgemental; you are entitled to your beliefs and your way of life as much as anyone else. We may not agree at all, we may be entirely incompatible as people, but that’s just how our wacky species goes. It’s when you start to diminish and endanger the lives of others that we’re going to have a problem. To quote Tom Lehrer:

“There are people in this world who cannot tolerate their fellow man, and I hate people like that.”

But getting back to the point: I respect you. And with that respect comes trust. Because I am going to treat you with respect I’m going to trust you’ll do the same to me, and that this is how the world generally works. That’s incredibly naive, I know, and maybe even dangerously so. I am fully aware that how I look, where I’m from, and all manner of identifiers will classify me as “one of them” to someone else and instantly lose their respect, and subsequently their trust.

As sad and as terrifying as that is, I can’t help it. There is a much larger world around me, and it’s had a whole lot going on to set up the reality we share today. All I can do is shape the little pocket of the world around me and hope that, maybe, my respect for you will earn back your trust. With that, you will come to respect me. And if we’re going to be really hopeful, you’ll extend that respect to the next person you meet like me and they will likewise respect you in return.

And when I screw it all up by doing something stupid, don’t hold it against me, please. But we’ll talk about “forgiveness” another time.

So I spent an hour or so on today’s blog on the topic of the “subjectiveness of humor” and ended up just deleting the whole thing. Part of the reason is that, while this is something of an op/ed feature, I don’t want to get too preachy from my soap box. And on the other, I just wasn’t getting my points across. So instead of just skipping the feature this week, join me in moment of introspection: when a writer no word-make gud.

“Writer’s block” is a real thing. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. There has been endless discussion over how real it is, how to prevent or work around it, or if it’s self-fulfilling detrimental thinking. Speaking from personal experience, it can be a very physical thing. I can feel the grey matter not working.

On a good day, when I’m very productive, there is a satisfying clarity of mind when I’m through. Imagine an empty attic room, finished but unfurnished, with sunlight beaming through the sole window. That’s a good feeling.

But on days like today, it’s more like I’m wandering through a hall of mirrors. I know there is a goal and I can see a direction, but each step forward is halting and unsure. The points I want to make are right in front of me, but they’re distorted, improperly formed, or misleading. I think I’m getting to something profound, or at least coherent, and – bonk! – nope, that doesn’t make sense. That could’ve been stated more clearly. I already said that, or I repeated myself, or became redundant. That joke was lame.

The worst days are when there’s nothing. As frustrating as being unable to get the point across can be, it’s miserable when there’s no point to get to at all. If you’ve ever experienced sleep paralysis, or had the misfortune to have a limb fully encased in a cast, you’ve got a general idea of what it feels like. It’s a rare occasion, but there are days when there are simply no thoughts to be thunk. It’s not like being in a fog or having the word at the tip of your tongue; it is a total inability to think creatively.

Remember that clean, empty room? Now imagine trying to push something heavy around, but there’s nothing to push. You can’t even pantomime it to get the satisfaction of tensing a muscle – it’s just air.

I hope this was illuminating for somebody out there, because right now I’m still stumbling through my hall of mirrors. I feel like I’m nearing the exit, but on days like today, it might just be another – bonk!