It would be so much easier if they were plotbunnies or characters. I could write something and my messed-up-ness and whining would be *something*...
Instead, it's random to-do lists and freaky useless guilt about nothing in particular or about all the things I wanted to do but didn't because I burnt out on math or got pregnant at 20 or just can't seem to stay on top of the housework.
Hell, sometimes it's guilt caused by the fact that my body just doesn't work the way I want it to, as a result of hormones, or just plain biology, or because I've let myself get out of shape.
Life keeps kicking me down and I angst about it at 1:30 in the morning, and then I wake up early the next day and face it down again and kick freaking back!
And that, my lovelies, is the true meaning of courage.
And now: Linkity of YUM: Men In Kilts (enjoy, my dears!)
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