I Don't Write As Much As I Used To.

I usually default to iced coffee. I drink much too much of it. And it's not really hydrating, but it must be somewhat hydrating or I'd be dead, cause I can go several days drinking only coffee.

But today I am drinking iced green tea. I seldom drink iced tea, but I did last summer. Taste is a funny, evocative thing. I used to eat these little lavender or violet flavored candies and it always reminded me of England because it's the first place I got them.

Last summer was a summer of writing and drinking iced tea. And so one sip of iced tea reminded me that I don't write as much as I used to. And just like that a year slipped by and I missed the anniversary of starting my blog. Of course, I've been writing since forever, but my blog has reached its one year mark this month. I feel sad that I don't write as much. I need that reminder that I can write anything on here. And I need to. It doesn't matter if it is magical and poetic. It can, and needs to be, outright crap sometimes. Because I need to write in order to write. It makes sense, I know it does.

My brain has shifted toward painting and I don't regret it. Painting is a different kind of catharsis, but I still need to write. I process things by writing. Sadly my little writers guild died months ago. But part of my lack of posting on my blog is because I write in a handwritten journal every day so some thoughts get dumped there but they're very mundane, and I often resent my journal because I will get to the end of the day and still have to write so I will write gibberish just to get done with it. But it's not furthering my writing. I don't want to treat writing like a chore or something I have to get through.

In other news I have a new job! In other news I have a new instagram account. Well, a few months old. I decided to create an instagram for my art. Not because I think I'm so great that my art needs its own account, but mostly because I wanted to follow a ton of artists for inspiration. I love painting and I'm getting better. I love writing but I've plateaued.

Such is life. I feel busy. Mostly in a good way, but also in an I-haven't-cleaned-my-room-in-far-too long kind of way. I have laundry to fold, paints to clean up and so many surfaces to dust and yet, I'm going to play boardgames with my brother and sister-in-law because they're cute.