Pixelated

It's not that things aren't happening; it's that I'm not writing about them. I'm not writing about much these days, although Sunday morning I woke up with the start of a story in my head, and wrote 5000 words that morning.

Nothing since, of course. There's no discipline these days, no getting up an hour early to get in some writing before work. For a little while (2, 3 days?), I was writing for half an hour a day to get into the swing. Then I got sick, and then I had an early morning concall, etc etc.

Sounds like my progress with running. Somewhere my treadmill is laughing, both at the sheer effrontery of calling my shambling along "running," but also the very idea that I have such a thing as "my running," which I don't. Maybe twice a month I'll climb on that thing.

Ugh! So I am very down on me lately. I don't know what my problem is. And bless you, Internets, I don't think you do either, so I'm turning off comments for this post. And trying to turn on the self-acceptance, although frankly, giving myself a break is how I got into this mess. I know there's a balance between getting things done and beating myself up. I just need to find it.

But I know you're out there, you kind followers of my blog. Hello! How are you? I hope you're well. I send you virtual chocolate muffins and lots of love.

EDITED TO ADD: WTF? Sometimes this post shows up; sometimes it doesn't. This pisses me off.