i still have days where i wish i could write. not where really, but rather that i could write.
now that fish is older and able to entertain herself more independently, i'm reading again. not really anything on my list of things to read, or anything that i actually own, because unfortunately my library is still in boxes in my mother's garage. hundreds of books i really hope the mice don't eat.
no, i've going through project gutenberg and places like that and am reading on my computer. because even though he's wanted to get me one since they came out years ago, i've dissuaded my dear hubby from buying me an e-reader. i've always said i really don't have the time to make owning one practical.
though i am reading again. not like i used to, because i don't have the time to get that lost in books. it's good for me, i know. it keeps me out of my head so much if i'm lost in the world of words of others. it's just that it always makes me wish i had the time and abilities to actually finish writing something. i start things and get distracted and move onto other inetesting projects. or i have an idea, but i never flesh it out completely, and then i move onto the next "great idea" that pops into my head. or, perhaps my biggest hang-up, is that i start something, and i know where i want to go with it or how i want to end it, but i can never think what happens in the middle.
maybe one day, when i can get enough sleep and have less stress, i'll be able to focus again. or i'll get distracted by something shiny and move onto the next thing that pops up.