I kinda feel like tomorrow is the first day of summer again—nearly a month into it. I’m gonna wake up early and work out, mow the lawn, and then attempt to finally make more progress on the novel. By this time last year, I had written nearly sixty pages since school ended. This year? Seven. This year has been so busy, and every time I sit down, my brain goes to a million other places, things I need to do. I am really scared about it all. I’ve been turned down on the other novel, and I want it too badly. I’ve got to shake that off. The fear is taking over the joy of writing and the simple need of it.
I’ve been really glad to be home, which was sort of surprising. I know that I’m a creature of habit and such, but home has been so painful, it’s been nice to have some relief by being in the house, with the puppies…
I went out with the bff tonight and saw Toy Story 3 for the second time. Cried less than last time, but still cried. I really love that movie.
On a positive note, trying not to count chickens, it really looks like my friends are going to work things out. I really need them to. Surely someone can make this work, and commit to loving each other and giving of their lives—through the pain, the work, the anguish. Surely. I don’t want it to be a myth, but I’m not really seeing much that makes me think it isn’t—for sure nothing in my own life. I’ll take it vicariously if I have to.
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