Writing, I should write. I need to write. I need to update my blog, but I’m pretty damn good at self-sabotage and getting in my own way.
I realized that I really need to work on book and film reviews (apparently, I’ve started quite a few but haven’t finished and posted anything since September of last year. awesome). I’ve seen quite a few different films (thankfully Netflix keeps a list of what you’ve watched so I only have to question which DVDs I’ve physically watched) and I’m chugging along with books. I still haven’t worked on bare-bones reviews for GoT books one and two, and somewhat comprehensive reviews of others.
I’ve realized that I may be the nerdiest person at work. I found out yesterday that my boss has never heard of LOLcats and my cool punk-rocker co-worker has no idea who Penn Jillette is. The closest nerdy co-workers I know of is one guy who’s speeding through book 3 of GoT and one of the managers who got into a small conversation about the possibility of an actual zombie apocalypse.
I don’t mind. It just helps keep the “fucking weirdo” thing going and it amuses the hell out of me.
I’ve written down a few things I want to write about, but I think it’s the act of typing I just don’t feel like doing lately. I’ve written down story ideas, but haven’t gotten much farther. I’ve sabotaged myself into not doing this workout that was set up for me (because I’m a lazy bastard). I haven’t felt creative, but I want to work on my rinky-dink comic (and I haven’t). I want to write, I want to start on my little needle-felt koala head, I want to work on scarves. But I just don’t feel like it. I have no discipline.
Now I need to package up the commission and go mail it later on.