On a Wednesday she is electric

Tonight I planned to sleep. I did. I really did. Clearly, I didn't.

I was going to bed, only I needed a Sex and the City fix. And then there was laundry. Which led to a shower. Two therapeutic phone calls with two dear friends who are both going through break-ups, wrestling with the cats and photo editing...

And by the time I finished all of that, I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. So I did some thinking...here's what I came up with.

I need to write.

And that's just about that. I've been writing lots of moody little bits and pieces that I store away in half empty, dusty journals on the floor of my closet and on miscellaneous word documents that get saved under random names and numbers whenever my laptop dies. I guess I'm a perfectionist sometimes and if I can't finish and edit something pretty much perfectly, than I don't do it at all.

What if half-assing it is better than..not assing it at all? Or something like that.

I know that every time I've written consistently in my life, I've been pleased. I know I should. So..I should.

There.

If you're subscribed to this blog, forgive the possible choppiness, bad grammar and lack of polish that may come in the upcoming posts. It's just time for me to write myself into a frenzy. This isn't time to wait to learn calligraphy and search for synonyms.

And now, suddenly, I want nothing more than to sleep.

Fitting.