I’ve been getting comfortable enough with The Viking to start letting more and more of my weird slip through. I make comments on rodent testicles in a public place, can you imagine what my private texts are like? Yep. I would feel sorry for the guy, except he gets to experience the brilliant random weird first hand, and he signed up for it. I’m pretty up front about being crazy and a weirdo. People normally don’t believe me and act surprised when I do something completely oddball. Bitches, I warned you. I believe in truth in advertising.
So, I have finally admitted I was in a pretty thorough funk. I can’t really guess for how long. My guess is that you guys have known for awhile. You guys always know when I am in a funk or depression before I do. I don’t like admitting it to myself, so I pretend everything is fine, because that behavior has always worked so well in the past. Yeah.
I’m not very kind to myself. I’m very busy focusing on what I need to do, what I am doing wrong, and what I am not doing, but I forget to look at what I have done. I’ve always felt very strange taking praise or feeling a lot of pride. I don’t want to be arrogant or develop an over inflated sense of self, but I think it is just as unhealthy for me to lack understanding of my real value.
I was also really overwhelmed. Yesterday, I picked a few small things that have been bugging me and fixed them. They were pretty small, but I felt a lot better afterward. I’m going to do that everyday, pick a small thing, or three, that bugs me, and fix it. I am also going to stop being upset with myself for not eating and exercising like I should. I just need to fix it. I’m not a failure for not sticking to it; only if I don’t pick it back up. Guilt and self loathing are useless and destructive.
I have no idea about my writing right now. I keep trying to work on different things and coming up with ideas, but everything feels like busy work. It is so frustrating. Everyone keeps reminding me I have a golden opportunity right now. I know I do. I feel a lot of pressure to be making pure literary gold leak from my fingers. I should be a fount of amazing words and world changing prose. Yeah.
I’ll get it figured out. I always do. I’ve written two major works. The Bloggess thinks I’m pretty. I’m a big hit in the Ukraine. I send awesome random texts messages. I got this shit. No, really.