This is what I feared. I started out with such high expectations, writing every day about anything that popped in my head. There is so much going on in the world, how could I run out of things to say?
Things are very quiet here. I get up, I take care of the family, I go to work, I knit, I talk to friends. It is pretty normal and boring. What is missing is that manic feeling that inspires the writing. That overwhelming sadness or that crazy hummingbird upswing. I am just here.
I did something yesterday that I have not done in forever, I sat and watched TV. Now I am not saying that I don’t watch TV, I just don’t JUST watch TV. At the very least I am knitting while I watch. This time I sat and watched. It freaked me out a little to be honest. Is this what normal feels like?