Already terrible!

I made a resolution about 4 days ago to write in either this blog or my other (or, gasp, possibly both?!) every day for at least a week. The idea was that setting a strict schedule would build into some kind of routine and I would continue to write regularly even after the week had passed. Three days in, I failed.

The terrible part is that I don't even have a good reason - like school or work or hangovers - for why I didn't write yesterday. I am on my week-long break from school (between Summer A and Summer B), I don't have any freelance things due for another week and a half, and I'm pretty much just sleeping and reading the newspaper all the time. For the first few days of this, I was like, "Look, world, this is my vacation week. I have had a stressful summer, and I deserve not to worry about things for three freakin' days." But seriously, self, it's been long enough.

The above stress-inducers/time-suckers have made it really hard to write, well, kind of all year (with the exception of hangovers. I am now so boring and workyworky that I rarely drink more than one beer). My old, "real" job may have sucked, and I don't regret leaving it for school AT ALL, but man, it sure made weekends easier. I could just leave stuff on my desk and not think about it, or care, for days. Now, there is ALWAYS something looming over me: Freelance stuff has been coming in steadily (which is awesome - I didn't think I would get any work, really), I am working part-time in an actual office-y building, and, except for this week, I have homework to think about (even though it's summer, and we all know, deep in our hearts, that summer class is - or is supposed to be - a joke). Oh, and there's also the little matter of planning an entire semester's worth of English classes for the 9th graders that I'm getting this September.

Wahwahwah - right? I've gotta stop making excuses. I mean, I love writing - why do I not do it more? Why can't I make time for it, when I make plenty of time for pfutzing around on the Internet and talking to my dog? I've had an idea for a novel bouncing around my skull for at least a year, but aside from the general plot points, all I've scratched out is a character sketch for a dad with an ill-conceived and nefarious-looking mustache. Surely, I can do better.