Bloody resistance

Listening to: “Where’s Your Head At” – Basement Jaxx

It is seriously eating up my mind. I want to insert a bleedin’ interrobang there. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I was excited to start this project. Sure, it was kind of irritating and sad to get massively speed-bumped by my own external stress and exhausting lifestyle, but I can’t believe how much it has made me want to just dump this entire thing.

I’ve got 10,000 words. Why do I just hate the idea of continuing? I don’t think I’ve felt this way since Daf and Rhys went south on me. And that was a landslide effect with a crash at the end. It’s really discouraging. Almost heartbreaking.

The whole point was to just focus and finish something. But this keeps happening. I want to add “to me” at the end of that, but not only does it sound stupid and whiny, but it isn’t accurate. I’m not subjective here. There must be something I am doing wrong. Not staying on target, maybe, except that I haven’t written anything else. Choosing titles and premises… Not outlining? Maybe my methods need to change.

I’ve always had false starts and impotent ideas. But lately I have had this obnoxious string of them. To the point where I can’t tell if that’s the problem, or if I’m the problem. It’s really depressing. And being depressed makes things worse.

At least I’m getting back on my blog. It suffers whenever I feel like I have too many things expected of me. Gah.

A problem of this nature makes me feel like I can’t even make any decisions. I just want to look to someone and say, “Tell me what to do.” I might even do it. I’m not in the greatest place right now. I need more than the weekend to recover, and I feel like I’m getting behind in every aspect of life. That makes everything bad worse. If I could just get one thing turned around and get on the ball regarding something…

Whingefest, bleh.

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