By the time I make it here to my blog, it's ten minutes after 10 o'clock on a Tuesday night that looks more like a Monday because Tuesdays function as my Mondays ever week.
It's one of the many indicators why my blog posts have all been a little -- okay, more than a little -- filled with self will run riot for the past several months. Also, why they're sporadic and sort of senseless most of the time.
By the time I get around to doing them, I feel used up and worn out. But I have this compulsion to write, so I do some of it here. Also, this is typically the kind of shit I don't necessarily put out there on social media for all the world to read and review.
There was a period in my life when I thought I'd have the first novel completed by the time I was 21. Then it was 25. Then 30. Now, I'm just hoping I can keep blogging regularly until I'm 40 and not have a hatred for this thing I love so much.
I still need to do it, but I sure miss loving to write.
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