offline writing

Not that it means much, but I've been really great about doing at least a little offline writing every day for a couple of months now.  I've been off of work for six months now and the trickling of ideas for different fiction pieces have started back up, but I haven't started anything.  Right now I'm focusing on putting the pen to page -- it's become something of a mantra for me. . . .pen to the page.  pen to the page.  I'm just not sure if I have anything to say quite yet.

Although I was all excited about moving home a few years back -- making new starts, accepting a little responsibility for myself and my station in life, tempering down some of my less constructive habits, and maybe cleaning out the closet that was my terribly over-packed mind at the time -- it just feels like the last five years have been a terrible time suck.  Admittedly, I feel like I'm having a minor and somewhat early mid-life crisis here of late, brought on by some sad although not sudden losses, which is doing nothing but contributing to this feeling of uselessness.  The fact of my age (nearing thirty here) coupled with the inescapable view of my own mortality has made me into a little ball of retro- intro-spection.  And all I'm coming up with is, "Fuck."

That depresses me to no end.  Because it's familiar.  It's what I consider the old me -- my old addage to every thing from being late to work (fuck it) to dealing with stupid people (fuck you) to the very general, all-encompassing (i don't give a fuck.)  I need a pick me up that's not chemical related -- just any old good news will do.  Good will couldn't hurt either.

Hope you kids in the blog-o-sphere are enjoying the holiday season.

-dboy.