1:15 p.m., Friday, July 27, 2012.

I’m going to see what I can conjure up in 15 minutes but I’m pretty sure I could write all afternoon. I haven’t updated this thing since March. My personal journal in which I actually put pen to paper, maybe six times since March.

It’s been bugging me that I haven’t written much. My job doesn’t involve as much writing as my previous life as a journalist. My coworkers and I are all former journalists and they seem to keep regular blogs (one is a photographer and constantly posts her pictures on FB). I… I don’t as much. My father’s bleating throbs in the back of my head: “Write every day. It will make you a better writer.”

Earlier this month, back in Ohio visiting family for 12 very long days, I found myself in my mother’s basement on Day 11, going through old college essays. Good lord, what bad writing. Lots of ideas, crammed into a small space, not thoroughly drawn out like they could have been. It was a bad habit I had in high school, college and still to this day, I feel I do cram too much into one space. Much like the lifestyles of many.

I came across an article today

AGH! See, my head jumped ahead to another topic that I wanted to expand on but I’m going to stick with the point I’m trying to make. Going through all those old papers and essays made me want to write again. Really sit down and focus on writing essays that are based on real life experiences, like those I wrote in college. I laugh though because at 20 and 21, what experiences did I have then to expound upon? My parents divorce and my naive ideas about dating and relationships. Ten years later, I have much more experience to pull from and sort through and think about. I know there are writing groups around here (at least there used to be I know). I should find one. It will teach me more about patience too.

OK back to that article – Apartment Therapy: http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/10-things-that-will-make-you-happier-at-home-174151

I liked this – several of which I knew about and try to stay on top of (make your bed every day, keep clutter at bay), but I’m a big fan of #5: If you can’t get out of it, get into it. She uses the examples of doing the dishes. I really don’t like doing dishes. They just pile up and eventually make it into the dishwasher (which I have to babysit because the cycle gets stuck in 3 places) but even then, I have an overflow of dishes that I wind up handwashing because the dishwasher is full.

REGARDLESS, I love the image she describes – fist pumping the air and rockin’ out while doing dishes. I usually find myself using Tuesday evenings for such chores, especially between 8-9 p.m. because one of my favorite radio programs comes on, WireTap. So, I should really just make that a regular habit.

OK 1:29 p.m. I honestly have so much to say but at the same time, I don’t really want to say it here. I’d like to read more, get off the computer (thankfully have broken the habit of turning the computer on at home when I walk in the door) (although this week I only spent two days in the office standing at my computer, so what I am complaining about?) need to spend time in my garden, nourish my shade garden that I worked so hard to build in the spring. I feel like I’ve neglected it. Well, I did. After I realized I’d break the bank if I kept buying plants, I installed what I had and let it be.  I’ve sorta let my backyard go to waste since my tree guys and dirt guys will be coming in mid-August to tear up 1/3 of my backyard. They’ll be removing trees and dirt so I can finally install a new privacy fence, one year since I tore the old one down to dig out bamboo. But those damn weeds are driving me nuts. CanNOT wait until the machinery comes through and gives me a fresh canvas to start with. Once my fence is in and the dirt settles, I’ll be installing raised gardens and hopefully have winter crops this year.

It’s 1:34 p.m. About this time every week, my inner deadline mentality surfaces and I crack down on what’s left on my to do list for work. It’s the strangest thing, happens every week. I shouldn’t be surprised at how and why it happens, but I am.

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