I haven’t been feeling myself today.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t been out of the house for the best part of a week, or that I was struck with the once a month curse this week. I’ve just felt really down in a way that I haven’t for a while. And tired. Really tired. Not even going for a walk earlier made me feel better, or any of the other things I like doing when in a bit of a funk.
Writing helps a little when you have an idea of what to talk about. Right now I am just typing the first thing that comes into my head into this space in the hope that something might stand out. It’s not going so well. I should know by now that I’m not so good at blogging when I feel like crap.
I’ll come back when I feel more like talking.
I am reminded that it’s coming up to NaNoWriMo time again. I still get the emails about it a few years on from my first (and only) attempt at it. I’ve thought about trying again some time, but as each year passes I just feel more and more like I don’t have the energy or time to really make a go of it.
That doesn’t mean that I am totally against the idea of month long writing challenges. Indeed, I’ve taken on my own alternative in the past. November has seen me post a blog every day instead. Doing that every day felt a lot easier to me than writing novel chapters, even if I did run out of things to blog about near the end of the month. I didn’t do it last year and I am unsure as to whether I’ll do it this year, unless I can guarantee that at least 60 percent of them are not going to made up of me moaning that I have nothing to write about.
Another week of work is done. I am tempted to hole myself up in my bed all weekend, but I know I will have to get out and do things. I always find myself getting more tired at this time of year. Maybe it’s to do with the changing of the clocks, or the heating being turned up and knocking you out in the process, or just the increasing need to be in or on something cosy (steady).
There is nothing more cosy than your own bed. Especially when it’s just you in it.