*pound*pound*pound*

Today has been a day of few words for me. Hardly spoke at all at work, spent 2.5 hours at a meeting where someone else spoke, then had a brief discussion of my evening out with Joe before he returned to his math-doing.

Now I sit down to fill a page of words and nothing comes.

I have this quote I read bouncing around in my skull:

"Real life is far more fucked up than you can imagine."

I agree. I want to have 750 words about  how that is true for me, or for others or for SOMETHING OTHER THAN THIS TEXT BOX full of words that don't matter and don't mean anything to me.

But I don't. I've got yet another blog post full of fucking angst about how I'm not writing. Or I'm not writing the way I would like to be.

I will continue to bang my head against the desk until it comes together.