May 3rd, 2016


Speaking in my echo chamber

I can't write. It feels like I'm all gummed up every time I try to force myself.

I'm doing my therapy "homework," my daily gratitudes (using the Day One app), and three weeks of "I'm grateful for this, I'm feeling positive about that, and I need to work on this other thing" is leaving me feeling dried up.

I have little ideas that go nowhere. If I'd been smart I could have used some of the funds from my ex to pay for classes. My 20-20 hindsight has me either having gone to Auckland when I had the school opportunity or having bought a house in East Oakland when I had the opportunity.

A lot of my time is me mentally beating up on myself. I'm not the person I want to be. My mental landscape seems pretty bleak.

Could I write a non-gendered short story about my love for Ket? Would I finish something I would always compare to Jeannette Winterson's novel with a non-gendered first person voice? If I'm always comparing myself to the writers I love, how can I make it further than the outline stage?