Tuesday, April 16, 2013


I've had writer's block lately.  I guess it's stress--the rabies saga, the animals getting me up in the middle of the night, pet and family appointments, money worries--yeah, there are good reasons for it.  And even though I got my e-book of poetry published this month and will have physical copies available for sale very soon, I've not lightened up on myself.  I've got a project deadline, after all, and projects don't wait until writers can overcome the oft stereotypical mind/body blank.

Yesterday, I felt blah.  I was in that bored state where I am tired but can't sleep (nap, I mean), don't feel like doing anything and just want to stare.  I did manage to get laundry done, run to two appointments, start a painting and waste time on the computer, but I didn't do what I meant to do which was work on this project.  I was procrastinating.  This morning has been better, in spite of my being tired again, but I should have been working yesterday, per my self-created schedule.  I feel guilty when I don't follow my own schedule or am not productive.  Illogical, I know.

The funny part about the laundry was I figured if I was going to feel blah and generally irritable, I might just as well wash, fold and put away some clothes.  I mean, yuck is yuck, right?  It's like when you have a cold but don't necessarily need to rest.  You feel gross, so you might as well work because you feel gross whether you are at work or home, bring productive or not.

I hate when I don't feel productive. I know I've said this a million times on this blog, but it warrants saying again.  It must be the Type A personality in me mixed with that age old anxiety that if I lie down on the couch, I might never get up again, which is ridiculous because I always do.

So this morning, I'm patting myself on the back for getting things done in spite of myself.  Some days are just harder than others, right?
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