Blogger's block?  Really?  This is part and parcel of over-thinking things, methinks.  Last night I regretfully missed the Mommy Mommy reading, but ended the evening making cinammon buns.  Trying to write as usual, amid a flurry of time-wasting activities.  I started a livejournal on Katie's urgings, but after the initial fun of setup I've returned to the good old faithful blog.

Ways in which I waste time:

1. pacing
2. arguing about things on my support group website
3. dithering about format vs. generating content
4. watching charm school reruns
5. housework (this is not actually a waste, more of a distraction)
6. looking at trashy gossip blogs like dlisted.
7. staring into space

Wow, this list could really go on for quite a while. Filling in units of space with letters, numbers.  The heat is on finally, filling the room with soft buzzing.

{takes nap}

(returns)

In sleep, projects take shape.  I wake up and they are gone.  Outside the freeway runs, the lake shimmers, palm trees wait.

how completely unproductive was this!  I slept the day away on the couch, the sun filtering through the window, lumps of blanket and cat.  Now the new tenants or possibly the contractors are making noise in the bottom unit, and I'm trying to figure out this google buzz thing.

coughs through the floor.  cold water.  a sense of peace.

Well, tequila is a harsh mistress, apparently.  And drunkblogging not exactly the best method of articulation.  Things found behind monitor: kitten, earring.

Today my car has a flat tire, Katie is at school all day, and I am stuck at home.  Perhaps this is a good opportunity to force myself to write.  Or to cheer up.  It's 9:30 am and I've already had pills and two cups of coffee, so this is about as good as it gets moodwise.

How about a list of funny blogs that I look at:

• texts from last night
• postcards from yo mamma
• regretsy
• unhappy hipsters
• vice do's and don't's

 Le sigh.   The day wears on, I carry glasses to the sink, shower, take out the trash.  The world moves beyond the window, I watch it, slowly, slowly.  Listen to old music and consider.

It's November and I finally turned  the heat on, buzzing, buzzing.  We are playing kickball today, apparently.  I plan on sitting by the sidelines in a parka.

Into some blank time.
I want to remember the day.

The fan whirs, the ac flutters.
My nails grow long and sharp.

I'm sitting here on a day in late March. Realizing that so much is the boundary between the personal/private and professional. Since going on disability I have let myself be resoundingly unprofessional. Perhaps that is okay. Perhaps everything is okay.

I have been hypomanic lately, fairly gleeful at times, at the moment a little calmer. It's time for projects, rebuilding, drafting. It's a time when I realize that I need to write a new book, or a new writing project of some sort.

Free time management.

I'm doing an interview for Prim and Unproper, I'll put the link up when it comes out.