Sometimes my computer likes to play tricks on me. There's nothing wrong with it. It just doesn't want to turn on if I need to clean the house for some reason.

I've been speaking with someone else's voice for some time now. I'm not sure why. It's an interesting thing to try out, but when I read it over later it's too......adult-like to be me. It's a good voice. A thoughtful voice. Even, dare I say, a refined voice. But it doesn't suit me any more than the crazy, jumbled sick, drowning voice of two or three years ago.

I was taught a long time ago that a writer needs to find his own voice. Your voice is your tool, your weapon, that with which you touch the rest of the world. And while my singing voice comes out with absolutely no effort (well, ok.......maybe a little.........) the voice of my thoughts is never able to quite break through the surface.