I had a goal for this month: Blog every single day for 30 days. Because it coincided with July 1st, my new goal became to blog every day in the month of July. I was doing really, really well until I left for vacation on the 13th. I maintained my mojo and continued to post for the first few days. Then my mojo failed me. I was busy enjoying myself and my material started to feel forced. My husband swears that I retained the same quality in my posts, but it didn't feel that way. I'm sorry to say that I couldn't keep up. So I amended my goal: Post thirty times in thirty days . . . even it that meant posting twice in one day to make up for missed days. At this point I'd have to write four per day to get the job done by the end of the month. Getting complicated? Welcome to my world.
It seems that I am forever making deals with myself. I'm going to work out every day. Okay, most days. Next month. For. Sure. It's a ridiculous, mind-numbing trait that I could do without. I'm going to stop doing this. Tomorrow. The fact is, I struggle to routinely do things that I actually enjoy. Perhaps it is a form of self loathing. I feel so good after working out; so you would think I'd be addicted. Instead, I do it the least when I need it the most. Like right now. Same goes for blogging. The fact that people even read this little old blog and my silly ramblings contained within is awesome. I decided to begin this journey because I needed an outlet. I didn't get into it thinking anyone would be interested in my life or viewpoints. I simply enjoy writing and am often in need of a place to blow off some steam. I'm quirky and honest about it. This blog has turned into a form of therapy for me. Even if I'm writing about something silly like my favorite mascara; I'm devoting myself to something, flexing my brain, and reaching out to others who may or may not be reading this and may or may not relate. I choose to believe that I'm not the only weirdo out there.