And the award for most slack-ass blogger goes too…

Forgive me, it’s been a few weeks. This is essentially what has been occurring:

After a series of unfortunate events a few weeks back I came to the conclusion that my perfectionism is indeed a dangerous flaw that needs to be managed carefully if I want my hair to remain black and my blood pressure to stay within a healthy range (watch out for a future post on this dreadful disorder). I’m the kind of person who writes daily to do lists 10 pages long – a level of expectation completely incommensurate with the length of the human day.

This realisation was the catalyst for some sensible, practical, sober simplification of my current routines. I came up with six key goals to strive towards for the next two years (before the forecasted Mayan Armageddon, of course).

Necessarily I’ve gone part-time with my studies (for this semester) whilst I get my junk together, and start a new stress-free freelance writing job in a month. And writing/research, of course. Lonely, funny, inspired, frustrating, obsessive first draft writing.

That’s all. How grateful I am for gratuitous laughs/TV/cultural events/friends/my odd family. The bulwark between me and writer’s insanity.

Back on track and more self-publishing on adventures in metaphysics, the zeitgeist, or general mishegoss (am yet to decide which one – a combo pack, perhaps?) on Monday.

Fo shizzle.


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