Man, been dark for a while now.
Not feeling as depressed as during the last blog. I have been under the weather for a while though. Been coughing for a consistent week now; my throat has just been killing me. And I just haven't felt like doing any kind of creative thinking, really, while feeling this down in the dumps. Usually I do these types of post as a way to flex the writing muscles, get a little limbered up to get back in the swing of things. I miss writing, It feels weird to think/type/write that after, you know, not writing, since really if a person wants to write they should just write, right? And yet, no! For some reason there is this strange quixotic urge, or anti-urge, that holds me back from doing it in times of distress or stress or hardship or fatigue. Some mix of fear and discomfort, as if the act of writing was just something I wasn't fit to engage in, and thus I had to abstain.