Today I am productive...

Well... kind of...

While I am not actually doing any of the work I get paid to do, I have accomplished a number of little things that I have been putting off for some time now.

This morning I took the puppy out, twice. She still has not figured out that she is supposed to "go potty" (according to the books, they need a specific code always used to tell them when to go, and this somehow has become mine) anywhere other than my kitchen floor. This morning I stuck on shoes and a coat over my pajamas so I could get her outdoors before he little feet could ever even touch the floor. Bed to front of the building we ran. Outside I thought for sure this would be the moment we'd been waiting for, there was no way she could resist her first thing in the morning release! Much to my disappointment she just hopped around like a kindergarten kid begging the teacher for a bathroom pass before he wets his brand new jeans. The second we got back to the apartment the floodgates opened... why couldn't she have done that outdoors?? Alright, so maybe the first pee of the day will have to be on the wee-wee pad, but I was confident for round two, the after she eats her breakfast round. This time I went more prepared with a pad she already used so she could at least pick up her scent. Out the door we went and again it was to no avail. I quit.

Then there is the whole me wanting to be a writer thing. Unfortunately I never know what to write about other than myself and how interesting can that really be to anyone other than myself on a semi-regular basis? "Getting Personal in Print" will apparently teach me how to make my stories more engaging to others! So next time I'm trying to wax poetic about the boy that got away or my dog's potty training stats, there will be no emotional barriers, no walls between my thoughts and the blank page to overcome. Mostly though I'm doing it out of relative boredom.

So, in my world actually doing those two things has made my day into something more than a waste. I think i'm becoming even more pathetic than I feared....

To ignorance's bliss

I left my job in an effort to "be a writer" which at this point means nothing because if what i'm currently doing with my time consists of "being a writer" there must be a hell of a lot of so-called writers out there writing absolutely nothing at all. Which probably has some truth to it actually.

The hardest thing about writing is forcing yourself to get to it. A blank page is like a shark infested pool (and not just any sharks, but more like the ones with laser beams coming out of their heads like in Austin Powers) and you just stare and stare thinking "why would anyone in their right mind jump right into this?" which is actually nothing like writing anymore but the point is that figuring out what to put onto a page is just plain scary. Because once its there, it exists.

I've always been an ignorance is bliss kinda girl. What I don't know will never hurt me so I like to stay one foot away from crossing any threshold. If I don't apply for jobs then I can't get rejected from them. If I don't let myself get into relationships then no one can break up with me. If I don't write anything at all then I can keep on pretending that all these thoughts and grandoise ideas in my mind will actually lead to something amazing. If I don't fail then I can still pretend i'm talented.

Ignorance is a lonely road. And a boring one.