I’m in a bit of a rut right now. This is bad timing. I’m going to BlogHer next week to talk about how awesome my blog is and I’m all, “Meh. It’s OK, whatevs.” And I’m supposed to writing three zillion words per minute to finish my book so you can read it, but meh, do books really have to be written to be read?
All I really want to do is read books and watch movies on Netflix and eat chocolate peanut butter ice cream while lying in bed. Typing this out, I realize this makes me sound depressed, but I’m not. What I really am is just blah. OK, maybe blah with a tiny bit of depression in there, but mostly just blah.
Do you ever get just…blah? I wish I could describe it better, but I’m too blah for my brain to work. I would say I’m taking a small bloggy break, but I’m no good at leaving you. I NEED YOU. I BELONG TO YOU. Uh, I might be reading too many romance novels.
I have tried many, many things to break out of the blah: not writing the O.C. book (it must be stressing me out!), deciding maybe I need a food cleanse (ooh, is that pie?), running and then not running, watching all of the movies made by ABC Family and/or Disney, reading serious and then not-serious books, staring straight at a wall, getting drunk on camera. You know, all the typical things.
So you’ll bear with me while I have a blah time of it, right? While I decide I’m going to show you Sachi’s bean art from camp that is just two straight lines, or, as he describes it, “It’s two walls with a clock in the middle,” because I’m just SO PROUD of his creativity? While I paste tweets of mine like this:
I might fall back on showing you lots of photos of my kids, because that’s why I had them. To use them as excuses for things.
Can you give me a kick in the pants to do normal stuff again? Like eat mayonnaise on camera while drunk? I just want to be well-adjusted like the rest of the blogosphere.