I'm in a writing class! It's actually designed for people who need to cultivate a writing practice...so, you know, procrastinators like me. We're doing tiny writing exercises. 10 minutes a day. And it doesn't require any thought beyond those 10 minutes, really. And it's making me see that writing is truly like exercise and I just have to train my body - my mind, really - to do it on a daily basis. I have to train my writing muscle if I ever want to write that marathon...or book, or whatever.
In not-really-related news, my mom wants to start a blog. Something about being retired and doing yoga. She asked me for help setting it up. I am happy to help, of course, but there is the whole issue of me not actually ever telling her that I have my own blog...it's one of those things that would be hard to mention now, after all these years, without admitting that I've not mentioned it on purpose. I considered that of course...mentioning it. I considered acting like, "Oh, would you have been interested in knowing that I blogged?" as if it just hadn't really ever occurred to me. But that's so stupid that she might actually think I was losing my mind. But more importantly, as much as I want to get to a place where I can be totally honest and not care what my mother thinks, I'm not there. And if I told her about the blog, she would most definitely read it and she would probably cry and most definitely judge and I'd be getting emails saying things like, "You know, I tried my best," or some other guilt-inducing thing. I could probably actually start a mirror blog composed entirely of her commentary on every one of my posts back through time. So yes, I'm choosing not to go there.
My therapist would totally not approve. But hey, it gives me lots to write about.
