Tag Archives: introvert

What? No daily posts?


No. No daily postings from me. While I’d love to adhere to the “write every day” philosophy, I still find that I need motivation, or desire, or at least acknowledgement. Without at least one of those three things I find I’m libel to write about whatever gets on my nerves that day. My goal here was to avoid creating yet another bitchy, preachy blog.

I’ve been more than motivated the last couple of days, but not by anything positive. The last thing I want to do is bitch, preach or get on a higher horse than I already sit on. I promise you will never hear me tell you who to vote for, who I think sucks today, or what you should worship if at all.

Did I have the desire to write the last couple of days? Meh. Kinda. Not a strong enough desire at any rate. The content just wasn’t there. All I had was a poor experience at a fast food location that got me riled up and how I don’t liked to be thanked for my service on Veteran’s Day…or any other day for that matter. I really didn’t want to get into it.

I’m not the kind of writer that finds vomiting words onto a page helpful. It doesn’t jump start my writing and only leaves me with a mess I feel I have to clean up, which takes too much time away from the actual writing. I’m not a drawing or painting kind of artist. I can’t doodle. I find I’m either on, or I’m off. If I’m off, I’m off and there’s no warming up. On a day like that I can and have sat and stared at blank page for over an hour and not even felt like putting my byline on it.

Sadly, there are more off days than on days. I sometimes think it all ties in to being an introvert. On the off days I’m recharging in my hidey-hole away from the public. That’s my big secret. I’m not too busy to talk or hang out, I just need to be away so I can recharge. People understand “I’m really busy,” though, so that’s what I end up saying. It’s never personal.

The on days are amazing, let me tell you. They feel…different; I don’t feel like me. The words flow like wine and I don’t even really have to think about them. They just fly from me, or through me (I haven’t quite figured that one out yet.)

So. Where was I the last few days? Just at home recharging in front of a blank computer screen trying to start a short story or novel. Something. ANYTHING. After a few cups of coffee all I had to show was an empty coffee mug.

Obviously I did more than sit, but I’ll leave what that was up to speculation. I mean, I am trying to pull together a life in a new state in spite of my future deployment and need to hide away.

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