Screaming Match

Oh the irony (and yes, that is the correct, un-Alanis use of that word and concept). I finally declare myself ready to get back to my bloggy ways, and I can't start a post. I've sat staring at the damned new post page for the last 48 hours, trying to begin a thought. Any thought.
The problem is not lack of material. Far from it. The problem is being able to organize my thoughts. At current, there are no less that 10 different posts holding court in my head, each trying to come to the forefront and be heard.
The story about Bob from work talking to me in the bathroom is currently banging its shoe on the table.
My absolute obsession with The Alchemist, such that, upon finishing reading it today, I immediately began reading it again, this time with a pen and notebook by my side to take notes is begging for a little attention.
My newfound love for Kelly Clarkson (yes, that Kelly Clarkson) is screaming to be discussed (OK, maybe some things should be kept under wraps).
The conversation I overheard at work today (again in the bathroom... it's like Ally McBeal over there, only I don't hallucinate and my skirts are of a respectable length) that made me realize just how much I hate lawyers is so desperate to be noticed it has started cutting itself.

I'm trying to calm everybody in there down and take their comments one at a time.