I stare at the blank page, wishing for an idea to come to me. So many thoughts, so many words, yet none of them coherent. What is Prose ... or prose, for that matter. I seek acceptance, yet I want to be exceptional. How do you make words scream -- to turn someone's head away from their electronic flavor of the moment? I won't dance for your shekels. I'm not that desperate for your attention. And yet, here I am ... writing on this empty page. Will I press the Publish button or will I choose to abandon this nonsense and move on to more mundane activities, like laundry or counting my change in that big plastic bottle I keep in the bottom of the closet just across from where I type this message.

I need direction.