So I’m on my eleventh micro blog post; one a day for nine days, two one day to make up. In that time I’ve become needlessly preoccupied with reopening my Twitter, start bullet journaling again, gotten a pet chest carrier to torment my cat with (I mean, I do think he’ll like it, but his pissed off face in the picture is glorious and pure Get Fuzzy), started mulling some active writing, installed the Honey plugin (didn’t work because of course it didn’t), and got going on a work thing.
Plus all the things I forgot since I started writing that paragraph, which I started quite a while ago.
But it certainly seems like the daily micro blogging is keeping the wheels spinning long enough for sparks, even some not terrible ideas. Though I’m still not sure if I’m generating movement or momentum. It’s probably the former—everything is fairly intentional—but it does feel like it’s picking up a bit. Synapses firing. However, if I were going to start active writing again, I’d need to start reading and I’m not sure reading in the cards. Unless I decide to do Philip Carey gets an M.F.A., which is very unlikely. I would however do it for a decent contract. We had a really good contract, all things considered, and it made me sad we cancelled it.
On that note. I think it’s bedtime; micro blogging obligation obligated.