Apart from being about the scariest word ever in rather a lot of situations, it’s also pretty much where I am right now. Sorry for forgetting to post the last couple of weeks. I’m about as scatterbrained as it’s possible to be and I’m pretty much holding on and hoping it gets better soon. Or even just gets better. Because it would be nice to actually possess a functioning brain again rather than the current model that would probably fail a lemon law check.
I actually feel kind of like a failure here right now, seeing as how the writing side is next to dead: I get tickles of things wanting to happen, but they can’t break through the fog that is female, 50+, and in the middle of that big change that screws hormones and other things. Oh to win that bloody lottery and be able to afford to retire so I wouldn’t have to reserve all my mental capacity for the job.
I’m trying not to get all whiny here, since really things aren’t horrible. It’s just that I have zero mental space for anything other than work, and I hate that.
It’s not even that I’m not trying – I am trying to write. I’m sure you’ve had the delightful experience of staring at the screen and your mind just going blank as soon as you try to add anything to what you’ve got. I seriously doubt the well’s gone dry, but it’s certainly got a very leaky bucket right now because nothing’s getting to the top.
Still, I’ll live, and sooner or later I’ll kick myself in the metaphorical behind hard enough to push past this dead time. I just hope it’s sooner rather than later, because it’s bloody irritating having every idea or narrative thought run screaming from the prospect of a word processing screen.