So I fucked over July like the rest of my life so far, letting it slip through my fingers, screaming the entire time while still looking the other way? What’s wrong with me? I just put too much on my plate; I’m like the guy at the buffet line with the salad and beans in his mashed potatoes, tiny spoons of multiple food dishes because he wants a taste of everything. I need to get with it. Or just start eating something?
A lot has been going on and I NaBloPoMoed for half the month like a boss that embezzles money from their employees pensions, but I digress.
I need to take myself seriously, is what it is. I could also use a comma and some change to that sentence. I need to take myself, seriously, it is what it is. There. I just spit out the quickest forms of creations when I do anything anymore. I wing it should be tattooed on my forehead. It’s my motto as a mother, that is for certain! I need practice with my writing, that is one of the points of my blog anyway, so I need to take this more seriously and use it for what it’s worth. I need to blog it the hell up! I have many things that I could blog about, but I’m sure I’ll just use my “wing it” attitude. I wing it with a lazy, self-sabotaging perfectionist's mind, that is.
I need to take more hobbies more seriously. I read, I write, I paint, I draw, I graphic/web design, I photograph, I play guitar, I print, I scrapbook, I sew, I crochet, I dabble in candle and lotion making, etc. I need to start tasting these dishes if I’m ever going to fill myself. I need to find who I am, to let go and let it be without judgment. Judgement. I am the only thing holding me back from anything. I am my worst critic; I’m such a bitch.