It’s a “waffle” kind of day. Not those lovely, yummy-nummy, round, flat cakes prepared in a frying pan or waffle-iron, served with fruit and/or syrup (maple’s my fave), and sometimes whipped cream. The waffle that comes from not being able to make a decision—you know, wavering, vacillating, being indecisive about something.
I’m waffling between beating myself up [again] for not conceiving of something enlightening / entertaining / stimulating / witty to post about and patting myself on the back for having gotten this far.
As someone pointed out (thank you, my friend), I have written five books. The “beater” in me thinks, ech, so what? How many people have read them? And based on why some people write (and have so much as stated), there’s no $ being made from it. The “patter” thinks, yeah, I’ve written five books. Published books. And I’m working on my sixth. That’s something to be proud of.
Having been a glass-half-empty kinda gal for way too long, it’s time to pull up the ol’ socks (gotta love those clichés). And as I sit here, staring out the window, absently watching someone climb out of bed in the building across the street (sorry, dude), I tell myself I am going to do just that—pull up all three pairs (‘cause it’s [still] bleeping cool here).
The half-glass-full gal says thank you to those of you who provide positive/supportive comments; they mean a lot, truly! This gal will figure things out and get back on the straight and narrow (yeah, it’s a cliché-filled morning but, sometimes, they serve so well). It may not be tomorrow, or next week, or even next month. She has a few things to put into perspective. But she’ll get there.
She’s embracing a new attitude and forging forward. 😊
The Writer's Grab-Bag 