Some random thoughts of the morning:
My brain likes to keep me from writing. One strategy is to convince me that whatever I’m writing right now is keeping me from whatever it is I would rather be writing. I want to write fiction, I want to write math stuff, I want to write personal reflections, I want to write random whatever, and yeah.
Of course, if I’m not writing at all, I’m not writing anything I want to be writing, so all of those wants lose out. But sometimes it’s like a bunch of little children who don’t care if they lose as long as nobody else wins.
Harumph.
And of course there are those intrusive random thoughts about the pointlessness of it all, and then I wonder … but if nothing means anything and it’s all pointless, why shouldn’t I be doing something fun while it’s pointless?
Spring is coming. I’ve just turned 56.