Allow me to explain. The once spirited, even bustling river that was my creativity has dried to a slow and mucky trickle. Not only have I been unable to write, but I have also been unable to think. Conversation with the human specie has become a rarity these days. Occasional periods of coming into a vegetative state is not unusual. I have become a whole new level of social under-performance. There are a jillion pressing matters to attend to, but recently I have been finding myself locked in a room not thinking. As a matter of fact, I am committedly not doing a whole lot of things. Commitedly is not even a word! The red line of death is staring me in the face every time I type it, contributing to the not-being-able-to-think case I presented a few sentences earlier.
Oh, I just had so many aspirations for myself early on this Summer. Painting projects, braving and attempting to start a work of literature, developing a green thumb and becoming a master in the kitchen, but all I've done is ogle at paintings, collect paint swatches, re-read novels, write brief journal entries, water plants, boil pasta, clean, tidy up, and clean some more. So here I am, only admiring and observing the work of others (and compulsively cleaning everything around me). August will be here soon and I just feel terribly unaccomplished.
On a bright note, I'll be off to Disneyland in a few week's time and I am just so excited :)