I seem to be incapable of establishing rhythm for the moment. Excuse me for a moment while I look around for someone or something to blame. Damn. Just me. I was afraid of that.

Routines only work if a person can do them more than once in a row. Sometimes I don’t even manage once. Normally, I would declare this to be a complete failure of character and something for which I should be flogged. I can’t even get up the gumption for self-flagellation, so clearly something is up.

It may be the result of trying something completely new. I have been a slave to my polished-mary-janes-rule-abiding-list-making superego for so long that I think my creativity is broken. I have given up the list. I choose one thing that I want to accomplish each day and no matter how small it is, the day counts as a success if I do it. That doesn’t mean that I do just one thing a day, but that I’m not allowed to beat myself up for not doing more than one thing.

A lot of days, however, I’ve found myself napping. I don’t feel bad about this. It means that I really am that tired. It’s no wonder I can’t follow my passion; I can’t even find it until I catch up on my sleep.

Today’s one thing was to walk with Cricket and my friends. I did that. I hope it feeds me so that I get wherever it is I’m trying to go.