4:20 pmMature

Almost done with work.  Expecting a phone call at some point for me to explain something for work.  I've been writing all day, and free to do so (snow day work from home ftw).

I wrote in some blogs - and that's where I think the problem lies of why I'm so scatterbrained.  I have so many outlets for creativity that my fractured brain looks at them all and says, "You must put something here."  "You must put something there."  Must I?  Must I really do something daily?

My daily words should be the only necessary blog, and it's there where I'm starting to freeze up.  I can't come up with a long story.  They're short scenes and bits and pieces, parts of conversation, snippets of description.  I have people who read that blog and they're expecting a story.  Not scraps.

So my brain gets pulled a hundred different ways, creativity-wise.  Once I go back to my real job then my brain will get pulled that way too, in other creative ways.  

I wrote about my job for eight minutes and deleted it all.  So I'm adding 8 minutes to the timer.


It's almost twilight already.  My cellar is lit by this computer only.  I look outside and see everything is white: my driveway is white stripes where the snow blower missed some of the white snow; my garage doors are white.  The roof of my garage and its carport is white.  The sky is white.

Yet I look out the other window and the sky is pink as the sun goes down across the street.

It will be warm tomorrow.

4:48 (got distracted by phone)

The End

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