Still, my fingers smell like onions...

I was talking with the husband last night about how pessimistic I am in general. It's sort of a sad thing when you realize you never look forward to anything, even things that are certain to happen/promised to happen/etc, because you just don't think it's likely to come through for you in the end. I'm not completely rational when I feel that way, I know. When I really think about it, I haven't really had a huge, disastrous number of disappointments in my life. So, what the hell is up with the pessimism?

I'm in a rut, in more ways than one. It used to be the case that I would knit when I felt this way, but now I'm in a knitting rut as well and I feel like a bump on a log. I am suffering from a severe bout of Inactivity.

I sort of made a lackadaisical resolution to try to work on writing everyday, be it a poem, a short story in progress, or maybe that novel I'm supposed to finish eventually. I managed to write a nice paragraph over the weekend, but sort of wrote myself into a hole of intimidation. Gah! Why would I do such a thing? Why would I make myself feel too inadequate to tell a story of my own making? How does that even make sense? It's irrational thinking, and silly as can be, but there it is: my writing rut.

Oh, and the thought of pulling together journal submissions and editing stories is pretty terrifying right now. I'm afraid of going through rejection again (and I know that every writer goes through it many times), but as I sit here I realize, I might be just a teensy bit scared of acceptance as well. Then, there is that other part of me which floats in the corner and wants nothing to do with any of this hubbub. It is that person which I resemble the most. Honestly, I feel so out of touch with myself sometimes, dissociative. It makes it hard to take initiative and get things done when I'm really not involved in my own life. If I could only pull that part back and make it take control again...

Wow, this post turned into something else, that's for sure. What I really wanted to say was, "One of these days I'll work on that Swallowtail Shawl, and it might just be tonight." It's so close to being finished that I realize I'm silly for not working on it.

That's me. Silly, silly, silly.

Silly, silly, silly.


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