I was so productive last semester. I wrote over 100 pages for my manuscript. Then, I felt so good about doing it that I haven't written a thing since Thanksgiving. I have 29 days to write 40 more pages. Why isn't this pressure enough to get me going?
Instead of writing, I walked around the house today watering my chia herbs, cooking rice, and smiling whenever I found interesting things that Corey had done. Like leave a box of Cheerios in the cereal area as if there were another bowl's worth when really? There were about 5 o's inside.
And then I watched Clueless, which is far worse than I remember it seeming in high school. Why would Josh date a 16 year-old? Any college guy who does that seems kind of pervy to me now. Especially when the girl is his quasi-sister.
And now I have exhausted my list of places to peruse on the internet, so I face 2 hours of either stark boredom or productivity. Where is my muse today? Where are all my rugby stories and why won't they brim to the surface of my fingers?