Ruts, An Almost-Anagram

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I am jammed in a rut

and my wheels are stuck

but I know not to gun it

but if I wait too long

the weight will sink me

so I ease off enough to go a little farther

but I’m running out of gas

so I can’t go far

and there it is

there’s another rut.

Or some other better version of bad poetry or whatever. (Above is a photo of my current writing notebook. I opened it up tonight, in an effort to un-rut, and the last thing I wrote was the word TRUST. Pay attention to the signs. Even when they are in a language you didn’t know existed.)

Everything and Nothing: The Past 35 Days

Ummmm… oops?

So apparently, in the last 35 days, I took an unintended sugarleg break. Except for tweets. And a bit of Instagram. Oh, and maybe some Pinterest. A dash of Facebook happened and a little Go Mighty too. Also a writing class. (And a writing workshop!) A couple dates. A wedding (not mine, duh!) A baby shower (also not mine, duh!) Too much TV/caffeine/sugar/cheese. Not enough sleep or money.  A lotta lotta work, of the productive and rewarding kind.

But only sporadic running.

And uneven writing.

If I (re)learned anything during my fantastic 5-week writing class, it was the importance of writing every day, even if it is not getting posted or published every day. I realized that my writing routine has been so linked to my running routine, that when the running is off, my writing rhythm has suffered. That is clearly no excuse, but I am kind of surprised at my deep commitment to not just write, especially with what I know is some damn good material rattling around in the noodle.

Alas, it only counts once it’s on the page.

That is why I am proclaiming here that I know I am stuck and that I know how to fix all of this: call the acupuncturist and make an appointment for him to work on my knee; call the writing coach, the blogging mentor, and other supporters to make a plan; go bed earlier; oh and: