A kind of wall

scrubby

What’s that saying: things aren’t falling apart; they’re falling into place?

I’m sort of blocked with my painting.  I’m a writer, but painting is my relaxation and I don’t need to care how it turns out and I already know it’s not good.  I’ve written daily in 2017 and it’s great.  I’ve already written about six poems since New Year’s Eve.  Before that I hadn’t written one since maybe August?

I’ve been journaling and I enjoy it.  It’s not so much “dear diary” as it’s more of a chronicle of thoughts.  I did like the notation I made in one entry that I was extremely hung over on New Year’s Day and I had to get back to sleep.  I like that a few times this month I’ve woken up from slumber to record thoughts.  I’ve also enjoyed doing little doodles in my journal.

I hope you make a journal.  It’s fun.  In the promotion of happy, healthy new year, it’s a great way to boost your self-esteem and celebrate yourself as well (unless you’re a pessimistic, negative douche).  We’re all douches; we all beautiful douches.

writing

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