You Really Don't Have To Read This One

Didn't get any novel writing done tonight.

I suppose it's good that I tried, right? I mean, I made the effort, focused on the work, didn't just put it off. And I just couldn't detach myself from my current situation, my current thoughts and worries enough to lose myself in my fantasy world. The character voices are there, but none of us know where to go right now, where the road leads.

I guess you could say after the past couple of days, I just feel tired and really don't have anything to say. Wednesday was especially bad, and if you haven't heard the story, well, there was something of a running Twitter commentary from my phone as I stumbled around campus in an ever-increasing rage, looking for class rooms that did not exist as a result of being guided first by an outdated schedule, and then a schedule where I'd written down wrong buildings and incorrect numbers. Today was better, although I made some poor estimations of how long it would take me to get from work to class and back, so the commute was extremely nervewracking. Also, I lost my parking ticket and had to pay 9 dollars more for parking than I planned and... Jesus, is this really what I'm writing about tonight? The mundane shit that goes on in my life?

No wonder I don't have anything to give to the novel project tonight, there's nothing in this skull of mine that's worth talking about. I'm worrying about things like parking and commute times and the fact that I haven't settled into my classes, and my apartment situation is in all kinds of chaos. I suppose all of these are justifiable things to be distracted by, but, I don't know, I guess I don't like admitting that the shit that I deal with is mundane and normal and boring.

Part of me also worries that this is how the long, slow decline into the non-writing state begins. But then, part of me will always worry about that, I think. I felt it acutely every day I didn't write during the winter break and I'm feeling it now, even as I try to that that voice "fuck you, I tried to write and there's nothing in the tank." You know the voice I'm talking about, surely. It's the dark voice, from junior high, self-doubt, all that good stuff. Or maybe it began earlier than junior high, or middle school, or whatever the hell it was? Honestly, my memories are fuzzy about a lot of things, especially as they relate to myself.

So that's where I'm at, at this moment. I'm stressed about mundane crap and I'm blogging about it as a way to express my feelings, and I can't delude myself into thinking that this makes for compelling reading. In fact, I think I'll be including a warning in the title that you can skip this post, there's no keen insight to be gleaned here, move along, come back tomorrow.

It's weird that out of the past two days, the best thing that's happened to me is that I got what in my opinion is a really good haircut. I usually never get good haircuts, or at least, I never feel good about my hair after it's been cut. But I'm happy with this one, which means it's worth sharing, even if it's ultimately pointless.

So, yeah, there's that. Hopefully I have something more interesting for you all tomorrow. We can only hope, right?