Writer’s Muck & the kitchen sink

So, dear readers, if you’re still with me, I owe you some explanation for abandoning this blog for an unusually long absence.

It was a combination of things really. First, physically, I just wasn’t feeling all that well, and that always has a big effect on my creativity. Second, I’ve been experiencing what I like to term “writer’s muck.” Writer’s muck is similar to writer’s block, in that you’re left with a blank page staring you in the face — but the similarities stop there.

For me, with WM, you lose a sense of self, a sense of place. You have four or five or 10 possible column ideas in your head that you could develop — but you end up nixing all of them because, you figure, “who wants to hear my ruminations on that anyway?”

Now for me, I still manage to write part-time, and I keep myself to a schedule with that, and the publishing has been consistent. But straight news stories are different from blogging in that with blogging, you’re giving your opinion on the various topics on which you write.

Anyway, back to my “brain muck.” I know the surest way to cure it is to do the thing I’ve been putting off — write!! So I will begin by sharing an assortment of things that have happened over the last few weeks:

– My loathing of shopping was not cured last Saturday when I traveled to the Folsom Premium Outlets for the first time with the express purpose of getting three items and getting out. Now, it takes only 20 min. to get to the outlet mall, but because it was Labor Day weekend, it took us another 20 minutes to find a parking space. Now, I took careful note of where our car was parked — the numbered row, and what store it was adjacent to — thinking this was a wise move on my part for the return trip home.

Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Whomever was in charge of signage at the Folsom Outlets did such a piss-poor job of it, that it took us a full 45 minutes to find our vehicle!! (And at least a mile-and-a-half of walking.)

You might think we would have seen a security guard driving by in one of those golf carts — but, no. It was that Seinfeld episode minus the air conditioner, and no one relieved themselves outdoors. But it still was an unnecessary hassle and for that, I won’t be going back.

Such things irritate me, but my recent experience with the United States Post Office has me livid.

Tell me something: Was I seriously the only person who did not understand that the USPS’ “Priority Mail” 2-3 day service was a complete sham?

Here’s my story: I went to one of those parcel places and paid to mail a padded envelope to my friend in Mass. I asked the owner what was the fastest way to get it there, and the cost. He suggested the Post Office’s “Priority Mail” 2-3 day service, which would cost me @ $8 (it was under 1lb.). But, he did caution me, it wasn’t “guaranteed” service. I figured, well, if it takes an extra day, OK…

Here’s the first part of the scam: They don’t require you to fill out any paperwork, so the package can’t be tracked. Ergo, they’re not responsible for getting it there in a timely fashion, because there’s no start date. Follow this?

In fact, the USPS is the only company that I can think of where you purchase something, and they don’t have to guarantee the service they provide. Think about it. The Post Office can outright lose a package, or damage it, and yet it’s not held responsible. Not the same if I order something from Amazon or from Sears, where, if it arrives damaged, or doesn’t arrive at all, I have recourse.

So, anyway, I sent my package Priority Mail, thinking I was beating the regular First Class mail by about four days. Ha! It’s now the next Friday, and the package has yet to arrive. I’m beginning to think the worst.

If it were so important that it get there, you might ask, why didn’t I send it UPS or Federal Express? Well, for one thing, it costs more money, right? And for another, it’s the principle of the thing. I think if I pay good money for an “extra” service, from the U.S. government no less, I expect them to provide said service.

Well, I’ve learned my lesson. Burn me once, shame on you; burn me twice, shame on me, my grandmother always said. I shan’t be using Priority Mail again.

Until next time –

Keep the faith.

– Amy Yannello