I am still forging ahead – trying to make myself write even when there is no inspiration, no time, no motivation. It is the exercise of committing to it that I am interested in more than the output or content of the output. I forage through the forest of thoughts and find nothing nutritional. Sometimes I am paralyzed and boxed in by an inability to share or write coherently (maybe that is even more often than I imagine). Sometimes I am paralyzed by the perceived fragility of others – that keeps me from being as forthright as I might otherwise be.

Coffee will have to carry me through this.