I am having one of those moments where I hate everything. I don’t want to write. I want to change my theme but I hate all the themes out there, so I just go back to placating myself with this one. Then I realize I love this theme and I’m trying to change something that I have control over. Changing the little things in my life never really soothed the burgeoning beast beneath this calm and collected exterior.

She’s hungry for many things in life and yet is afraid to make the changes where they may actually make a difference.

I have not been motivated to write here either. Oh, I have had plenty to say. I wanted to show you floating cities and share good news, but when I find myself starting to type, I just give up and do something else sometimes less productive. Some would call this a mild depression but as any therapist will explain, depression is anger turned inwards. I need to unload, unleash, unwind.

I need a kick in the ass. A big kick in the ass.

So instead of writing here, I play Age of Conan. I read Harry Dresden. I sit near my garden watching the pea pods lengthen and hope for ripened squash. I perch precariously upon ladders to check my gutters. I weed my perennials. I whack the shit out of grass growing between the concrete path to my front door and complain my legs hurt afterwards when I knew I was a dumb-ass for wearing shorts while doing such a treacherous act. I play with my children and break up their little playful squabbles. I watch them grow and realize how alone I sometimes feel.

I do not write.

I complain my comfortable life sucks all the while laying my head next to an empty pillow. I realize my problem.

I’ll be better soon.

I promise.