I have tried to sit down to write this post like a zillion times and then my Anxiety Voice kicks in and gives me the sweats. Like this:
Hey, Whitney. No one reads your blog anymore. Literally, no one. You’ve fallen from your position as a recommended humor writer and everyone thinks you suck because you don’t write. You’re terrible. You’re the worst. All of your sentences suck. You should just give up and live in the garage and steal your old Russian Lady Neighbor’s white wine when she leaves it in her space because you’re allergic to white wine and it will kill you faster. You call yourself a writer but when was the last time you wrote anything besides a lesson plan?
Though to be fair, I rarely write those all the way down.
But my anxiety voice has convinced me that you all hate me. That no one reads my blog and no one WANTS to read my blog because I’m an awful human being with a weird nose and adult acne.
I have all these IDEAS for blog posts and then I will walk around a little bit and decide that no one wants to read the funny things I have to say about Ted Cruz and how I have anxiety dreams where he is simultaneously trying to overturn gay marriage while watching lesbian porn and masturbating with his tears and muttering, “oh, Jesus,” over and over again.
Was that a bit much? I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.
But I’ve been struggling with my writing lately. With calling myself a writer. Mostly because I teach more than I write, even though I teach only like six hours a week. I find it a lot harder to commit to my craft when I have lots of free time and Smule Piano and weight-lifting sessions to look forward to.
So I got this thing called a Passion Planner (I never realized how disgusting that sounds until just now) that helps me keep track of all my goals, and one of them was writing more. So my focus in February, the anniversary month of my blog, is to get back to the thing I love doing most. Which is telling you all about the shitty things my brain says to me and then eating a lot of chocolate to deal with it.
I’m back, bitches. For reals this time.