I can name 30,000 things off the top of my head that I will find a way to do instead of writing. Making a list of 30,000 things would be number one.
I don’t know why I fight it. It doesn’t make sense, because once I remove the distractions and dig in past thought’s epidermal layer, I love it. Of course, if I kept to only doing things that made sense, my son wouldn’t be here. Or the bajillion scars I have circling my knees and elbows like dish soap down the drain. Or like that analogy. It just don’t make sense.
I’m going to give NaNoWriMo a try, and pit myself against myself. Seeing as how much I love competition and love beating myself up, this should go splendidly. Self-loathing if I lose, or a viable work if I win. Place your bets, folks.
Yeah, I might know a little about that.
TL;DR Check out the meme.
If I could just shut my brain like I do my mouth, I could accomplish something. Don’t wish in one hand and shit in the other and expect to have anything. It’s damn rook mistake.