So I just need to force the words out, huh? Brilliant. I’m sitting here in my office (second bedroom, where the computer is) with a half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and some coffee. I’ve got about a half-hour until I have to leave for work. Is this enough time to write 500 words? I would hope so. Maybe.
My job is salary so it’s not 100% required for me to be there right on time, but I took a mental health day yesterday and managed to leave a mistake for someone else at work to fix so I’m both eager to go in (to show that I regret my mistake) and reluctant to go in (to show my face after having made that mistake). I mean, it wasn’t a big technical mistake but it was a political one, involving someone with a high level of authority and a reputation for being very detail-oriented, so my anxiety brain is trying very hard to make it a big deal.
Last night I had two very odd dreams. Well, one dream that flowed together. In the first one, a friend talked me into arranging a threesome with a mid-level celebrity. When I approached the celebrity, it turned out she was more attracted to me (it was a dream, just go with it). But when my friend showed up, with the expectation that we would all, y’know, be on the same page as it were, I worried that he would talk about the prior arrangement he and I made and that that would piss off the woman.
I have no idea what that all says about me.
In the second dream, I got an email from an attractive woman I am an acquaintance with an odd attachment. I was on my Mac so I didn’t think twice about trying to open it, but of course, it turned out to be a virus and began deleting my files. In the dream I wasn’t that worried; more annoyed than worried as I have (in real life) redundant backups. I wasn’t going to lose anything, just some time in getting everything cleaned up and back in working order. I should’ve knowed.
OK, this is humbling. What else can I say? I’m just writing my confusion and inability to write now. And I’m super conscious of every word I write. This is going to take forever.
This plan, to get me writing again, is actually Step 1 of building a new life, actually. I almost don’t want to put it out there, but if I can write regularly, then the next step is to try to sell what I write, to get some extra income and build up that business until I can make writing my full-time job. Now is a terrible time in the economy to try this – ideally, I’d have done this years ago. But better late than never, I suppose.
There. It’s out there. Nobody is going to see this, though, so it hardly matters at this point. I’m primarily admitting it to myself.
506 words. Done for now.