It’s a common criticism of an average or below average boxer to say he “can’t punch his way out of a paper bag.” Sometimes, even “a wet paper bag.” It implies a hapless palooka who is too weak/inept/cowardly to effectively land a punch.
Well, folks, I am that boxer.
My fight is against depression, as many of you know. Unfortunately, two of depression’s harder punches are loss of interest and lack of concentration.
So basically, I don’t even feel like fighting, usually. Hence, the long period of no posts on this blog. I’ll start a few of them, but following through is next to impossible; I can’t concentrate, and I don’t care.
Sucks, right?
I’m still here, though, in case you were concerned. And maybe sometime, I’ll finally land a punch. I do want to win this fight, really.
But I’m afraid we’re gonna go several more rounds.
Yeah, I’ve been wondering about you lately. You have written some great satire and humor. We fight in the same ring, you and I. Gotta keep getting back up, right? I get up in the morning, don’t expect a whole lot of myself and usually I’m not disappointed.
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Thanks for the compliment, sir, and yeah, that pretty much describes my day, too. I hate it.
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