So I haven't written today.
I say yet, because in all honesty I do plan on doing some writing. I've just had a few set backs today. Really. Ok, well, kind of.
I worked from 6-2 today, then I got home and my laptop was dead, so I had to charge it completely, as any good Mac owner would.
The plan was that while my laptop was charging, I'd take a quick shower, do a little cleaning and then get to writing. My boy works overtime tonight and wont be home until 7, so I figured I'd have a TON of time to myself, you know, to get stuff done. Namely writing.
Instead, I made a pot of coffee, jumped on Facebook, called my mother, called a friend whom I'm meeting tomorrow for a writing chit chat, which I'm super stoked about, drank a pot of coffee, texted my hair appointments that I have tomorrow to figure out exactly what my magic fingers are creating, played with my puppy for a while because she has been sick and I feel bad for her, finished reading my book, which was entertaining to the very end, and I'll talk more about in a minute, but this is the one.
And then I found the Alicia Keys station on Pandora. I couldn't very well take a shower and gamble missing a great song. Don't pretend that you wouldn't postpone your shower in favor of some old school music. You totally would too.
Needless to say I was still sitting around in my nasty work clothes well past 5pm. So reluctantly, I jumped into the shower, made myself some dinner -leftovers- poured a glass of wine, and blew my hair dry while I was waiting for it to be done.
I ate, jumped back on Facebook, and now here we are, still jamming out, sipping a glass of wine, and putting off writing, because, well, I don't know why, I just don't feel like it today I guess.
Which is not an acceptable answer, and I fully intend to get to it, even though its ten till 7 and the boy will be home soon.
Why is it that when you have the most time to dedicate to writing, you don't do it? I don't anyway. I'll admit it. It seems that the times that you can buckle down and let the creative juices flow, you find 8,000,000,000 other things that you can do, all of which do not include writing. I hate that.
Sometimes the hardest part of writing is actually writing. Sitting down and making yourself do it, regardless of whats going on around you. Do it anyway. Sit. And. Write. No. Matter. What. Free nugget of advice from me to you, oh, and for me as well.
Anyway, this book. Cracked me up. Totally. I think because I could totally relate. I was Tracey. Before I got engaged that is. I felt for her. And sometimes I wanted to cry for her. I was so frustrated for her, and so happy for her.
Funny how sometimes you don't feel like you can admit the truth. The completely psychotic gremlin that you truly are, until you read about it in a book and can accept that you aren't the only one in the entire world that felt those feelings that you did or do feel.
Even though I hate that I was that girl, and believe me, I was worse, I can admit it, and move on to wedded bliss. Or something. I don't know, I'm not to that part of my story yet.
This part really doesn't have much a point I suppose. It just made me feel better to know that I wasn't the only one in the world who was in love with someone, and couldn't figure out why they didn't want to spend forever with me. But the tricky part of our relationship was that he did, and does, and I cannot wait to spend forever with that boy.
So, anyway, now that I got all personal, I'm ready to be done blogging. Oh, and I need another glass of wine because I accidentally drank all of the wine in my glass already. Oops.