Trying to write

Writing gives me anxiety. I feel like I have restless body syndrome. Except not in my legs because I am lazy. I love sitting. And I love laying in bed even more. I’ll lay for hours and peruse Hulu and Netflix. (Well, not Netflix currently: I had to temporarily suspend it because of cutbacks). Hulu Plus still fits in the budget. The original subscription, of course. I look forward to affording the commercial free version someday. You got to have goals otherwise you stagnate. I think I’ll schedule it as my new years resolution.

Ultimately, I should cancel all of my entertainment subscriptions. I have become a consumer more than a producer. A couch potato; a bump on a log. A concept I used to ridicule when I was a young and virile skateboarder with health insurance paid for by my parents. But of course that was long before the internet or owning my own laptop. Hell, this was back when mobile phones had green screens and I was confused by a text message. (Why would my phone be asking me what I wanted to eat for dinner?)

But I digress…writing gives me anxiety.

[Loads Hulu Plus]

 

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About chrysanthemummy

My apprehension and skepticism are a defense mechanism I have learned to embrace in order to navigate the absurdity of life. (this will be updated as soon as I think of an alternative way to describe myself). Oh! I like star wars...
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