Gripes

I thought about dumping this blog.  I thought maybe I should come to my senses, have a healthy dose of shame and humility and let it just fall to the wayside.  I thought about starting a new blog, with a new title and with an actual purpose.  In fact, I started the process, checked availability of names for the blog, etc. but the titles I had in mind were all taken!  My new idea was as banal as my last -- Geez-Louise!   I scrapped the idea of pulling this blog.  Apparently I am not as ashamed of my daily life or of my same thoughts said over and again as I should be.

The only reason I write here on occasion is because I am stuck on my writing somewhere else.  And the only reason I try to write whatever I write is because I am stuck elsewhere in my life.  If you read this blog at all, then you know...
Will writing save me?  Probably not, but it's what I've got.

So... I have two files open on my desktop.  Two different version of the same script.  I am on page 81 of one and page 54 of the other and for some reason, I cannot move forward.  What the ____?  Why not?  I stare at the pages.  I see little fixes here and there, but nothing that matters or helps to push it forward. 

Hoping I could force it lose, like a plumber's snake to a smelly clog, I wrote a short, then another short.  Last spring I wrote a short that we shot over the summer, (still editing). I wrote a few bad poems.  Now I am "writing" here - but my script Won't. Budge.

Aggravating.  On top of all that, I am getting FAT.  And I failed to complete the NANOWRIMO writing challenge -- and WHY?  Because I felt obligated to put that writing time toward my stupid-ass story idea of mine instead.

I just want to finish it. I should just set a bomb.  Blow the fucker up and see where the pieces land. Some how end it.  I do know how it is supposed to end.  I do know what causes it, but --  I don't know.  It's not working, is all.  It's not writers block.  It just sucks.
I want to finish it today.  Feed the kids Cheerios for dinner and finish it, period.  Then, I want to go for a run, go to the gym and stop feeling like a fat little Hobbit with nothing left to say.