Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

New Stuff, And So Much Of Nothing

I have added some more photographs to my collection. Go see my photographs if you want to see more like the following one:

Also, while I am pointing out new things here, please take note of the link regarding gmail invites in the right-hand sidebar. I have 5 of these things to give away, so do not hesitate to contact me, even if this is the first time you have stumbled through this place.

And there’s more. I have also added a link lower down in the sidebar that will take you to my chosen weblog of the day every day. It changes every day. Fascinating, no?


Seriously, when I sat down today at this computer, I had tons of things to write about. In fact, last night when I went to bed, the Fiery One and I talked about how we can go for weeks feeling as though there is nothing in the world to write about, and then suddenly there is so much to write about that you don’t know how you could possibly fit it all in. Last night, I was in the how-could-I-possibly-fit-it-all-in category.

I felt that my newfound windfall of subject matter was a great leap forward both for me and the recent sad state of my entries. If I had not been fighting with my eyelids about whether or not they should remain open, I would have sat myself down at the computer and written a pile of stuff for future use. I am now wishing that I had brewed myself a 2:00 am pot of coffee and done just that, because my brain is not being all that forthcoming with the plethora of stories it had late last night.

I suppose if you look over my last two entries (#162 and #163), you will notice that things have been less than peachy. I’m sailing pretty quickly into my annual depression and my pet died. When I go through stressful times, my brain tends to fluctuate quite quickly between creative bursts of activity and a benumbed thoughtlessness. It can be oh so frustrating, especially when I find myself sitting here scanning my mind for information that I know was there a few short hours ago and coming up with zip, zilch, nada, nil, (aught?).

It’s not as though in my real, walking-around, flesh-and-blood animated life I have not been doing anything. I have been entertaining a guest over an extended visit, caring for and mourning a dear companion, trying to wrestle time into a shape that allows the Fiery One and I some scant moments together before his next trip, working on my new love of photography and Photoshop, making a great effort to take my meds at regularly scheduled intervals for maximum happiness, reading fabulous books, doing the occasional pub drop-in, and so on and so forth. Not only that, but the life inside my head has been like a choose-your-own-adventure novel with a surprise at every turn.

Can I tell you about any of this? No. Why? Because my mind has gone somewhat dull today. To put it plainly, I’m a little sad, ill in the head, depressed. Next time I have a huge brainstorm of ideas, I will run straight for the keyboard, I swear, but for now, I’ll give you this:

When I was a small Mennonite child sent to Mennonite summer camp, we would sing a lot, because that is what Mennonite’s do. In the absence of dancing, they sing. One of the prayers we sang was all about Johnny Appleseed and how the Lord is good to me and how that is proven true through the distribution of apple seeds. That song has been running through my head on a daily basis for a couple of weeks, and so in an effort to get it out, I have sung one of the verses for you:
Johnny Appleseed – a sung prayer (that is, sadly, devoid of a wringable neck)


See, I have so little going on to tell you about at this moment, that I will leave you a lovely game of Hangman for entertainment. You will like it, because it will help you pass the time while sharpening your ability to logically deduce conclusions.

An Orgy Of Dream Symbolism

Things Got Worse