Jun 13, 2017

goulash

The thing they never tell you about being a "professional" writer, is that your non-professional writing will suffer. I simply feel I have nothing left to say. Not like feel sorry for me, I can't contribute, but more like, I'm drained of all words. Last week I worked 8 hours of overtime. Doesn't sound like much, written down here, but when you consider I shortened my lunches, didn't take breaks, spent about an hour extra every day at work, and I still barely got finished, I suppose it starts to make sense why I don't come home feeling creative.

We're working on Christmas right now. I've lost all track of time, frankly.

I found myself worrying that we hadn't yet bought Lu an advent calendar (something we don't normally do, anyway), when I realized, well, of course we hadn't---it's June.

So there's that, as well.

None of this is excuses, but I check blogs myself from time to time, hoping always for something new. And if you've been looking for that here, well, you've been disappointed. To the point that surely you've given up on it.  IF you still read blogs.  Do people still do that?

I heard from a college friend of mine the other day. Her daughter is a JUNIOR in college. But how can that be? I just graduated, didn't I? Well, it turns out, NO.  It left me sad. Not depressed, but
certainly with a poignant feeling that lots of time has passed, even if it doesn't feel like it.  I guess I really can let go of some grudges from high school at this point, huh?

"Well, there I go again"

And I'm drained from all this politics. It feels like all we talk about, except the sides are so divided,
what are you to say, if someone is on the other side. It is as if each side is inconceivable to the other. So I'm left feeling constipated in my opinions. I'm not sharing it here, either, which perfectly illustrates what I'm talking about.

Time for dinner.






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