I have an essay sort of thingy that I am putting off posting because I am a little frightened. I feel like I have to edit it and edit it and then I realize I am using editing as an excuse to not be done with it. I am very clever and well-versed in coming up with ways to procrastinate in all sorts of situations. Writing and sharing that writing is one of those situations. I have folders upon folders of all kinds writing that I will edit and edit and edit till I’m sick of it then I won’t do anything with it. I suppose perfectionism might have a hand in keeping me from doing stuff, as well. Fear of failure! Ick!
Oh well. This will have to do until I can edit the writing one more time. Also, it rather saddens me, what I wrote, so that’s no fun. And if it makes me sad, what if it makes other people sad? They will get over it quick-like, yes? I think so. They are my boulders, after all. So it’s like this essay I’m putting off posting is like a tourist destination, and people will visit for a moment then move on but it won’t stick with them. Ah ha! See there! This is my habit of trying to protect other people from certain information and stuff in my head, and they don’t need protecting! They can handle it or ignore it. I’ll put it out there and it’s seen or not, but beyond posting, it’s not my problem the effect, if any, it has. Except really, don’t writers want their writing to affect others?
Peony is bugging me to get something for her so I’m not even going to reread this before I post it. And she’s threatening to throw her underwear at me if I don’t get her fan. Really?