Hi, friend. It’s nice of you to stop by for a read. Unfortunately, I don’t have much of anything for you tonight.

Today was one of those days that made me feel guilty. I felt guilty for feeling ungrateful, guilty for feeling like I’m done with everything, guilty for feeling like I have too much on my plate and guilty for the amount of energy it took to muster a smile or a laugh. I have it far better than that and I know it — but it was hard to remember today.

I wasn’t in the mood for happy, peppy songs on my way home. The ones that skewed melancholy were just my speed, not that it helped matters any.

I had an appetite, but felt like going straight to bed instead of satisfying it. That wouldn’t have helped either, though, so I made an egg for dinner and called it good.

Even the cat seemed to be in a mood. Each time I’d reach down to pet him, he’d slink away as though he was off to do better things. But then he’d come around again, only to do another great job of evading my hand. Sheesh.

The worst part about today was that I felt something that I’ve never felt: I felt like I could be done with this blog and not really care.

I checked my email and saw a bunch about screenwriting, playwriting, how to write better, how to finish a draft. Didn’t care about those, either.

But from a whole lot of nothing will come something — that I know. It always has before, whether it be a feeling foolishness the next day for being so glum, or maybe even a little nugget of inspiration to write about. Tonight I am thankful for knowing that ideas can sometimes come from the strangest of places, even if any writing is nothing more than a time-filler (blog-filler?) in the meantime.