It's been nearly two weeks since my last post (I know you were counting the minutes, don't be shy. Ha. HA. Just humor me). I have one post about half way done and I'm just...stuck. I don't know. I look at it and it's not doing what I want it to, so I'm basically at this point with it
|This blog is your home, post! Are you too good for your blog now? Answer me!|
Anybody else allowed to watch Adam Sandler (and Chris Farley and David Spade and and and...) movies way too young as a kid and as a result speaks largely in former SNL cast member quotes? No? Just an 8 year old Emily? Alright then.
ANYWAY. I've been working on above said post for days now, which is crazytown ridiculous. It should not be that hard, but I've entered into that head space where you second (and third and fourth and fifteenth) guess yourself about every. Single. Thing. And while that's SO much fun and I really couldn't think of a better, more productive way to spend my time, I've decided to put it on the back burner for a hot second and try something out. I'm giving myself an hour to type and whatever comes out is what I post (run on sentences and all. Sorry, mom!).
(So far I've spent a good chunk of my limited amount of time looking for that picture and double checking that I really was only 8 years old when my dad let me first watch Happy Gilmore. So much about my childhood can be explained by these decisions. I will go into more detail in my new book "Emily: Girl with the Tommy Boy Tattoo." Forward by: my future therapist.)
Can my whole post just be an explanation about thinking too hard and pushing myself to write whatever first comes to my brain and 90's movies? Because right now I'm sitting on my back porch, beer in hand, husband by my side, sun setting over our 3 acres, and I'm a million percent more content than I have been all day. I struggled and fought my brain all day and apparently it was all for naught. Poor bugger was just burned out and waiting for me to catch up to that fact. Done. Caught up.