New Year, Slightly Used

Happy New Year. There. I said it. I'm done.

The holidays really seemed to just zip by me this year. It's like they just sort of drove up next to me on the highway, asked for directions, and then left without saying goodbye or thanks or any of that. Christmas was like any other day with the family. New Years was like any other party where I didn't know anyone (which, these days, is most parties I go to). They've all been just days, like any other day. Which, I suspect, has always been what they are. But still.

In the meantime, I think I've figured out the source of my writing block. Essentially, I'm not writing because I keep thinking I ought to be writing. It's a little like lying in bed, trying to get to sleep when you're an insomniac. The more you lie there thinking, "I'm not sleeping," the less likely you are to sleep. So. I'm not writing. That's fine. I'm not the only one. Apparently, a lot of us haven't been so productive over break. And there's three weeks of break left in which to work.

And that's about it for today. I'm back in Pennsylvania getting ready to head off to Arlington to attend my grandmother's burial with my mother. After this trip, I swear I'm not leaving New York for another month, at least.