I cannot write, right now, because I am too busy playing Candy Crush Saga. If you know what this is, you understand. If you don't, please don't go looking for it, it will consume your life.
I cannot get past Level 74, and it is making me crazy. I came within 1 FRIGGING ACORN and ran out of moves. I seriously teared up.
And this is why I can't write. Level 74.
Also, because I am at that jumping off place.
My house is kind of a mess and I haven't gone for a run in months and the ends of my toenails are blue, the last slivers of a color painted at the beginning of November. I honestly can't remember the last time I shaved my legs. I have two good stories to tell you and no energy to write them.
"How are you doing?", asks my friend Y-.
Weird. I am doing weird.
When I started this blog, I did so with the intent of keeping up with faraway friends and family. I had no idea that people made money from blogs. I had no idea who Dooce was.
Before this blog, I had never written anything longer than a response to a message board post. I was a good reader, a good thinker, sometimes funny. And now here I am a couple of years later, walking around with my chest puffed out calling myself a writer. Sometimes it feels very much like a sham.
Sometimes it feels like this is the best thing I've ever done short of those three perfect children. Sometimes, I want to kick myself and say, what are you doing, you are so lazy! I should be submitting things and being more active and consistent and engaging. But then I get distracted by washing machines and special snack and soccer registration and play rehearsal.
And Candy Crush Saga, Level 74.
So here I am, at a jumping off place. I will, I will, I will jump.
As soon as I get to Level 75.