Writer's block is hard. I want to write something good, something worth reading, but in my head, there is only crap. A bunch of yada yada yada, blah blah blah. I had this epiphany last night that you can't give good blog if you're not out living a good, full life. Perhaps this is my problem. I don't do anything.
Last night, Jimi and I folded some clothes together. Then Steve came over. Then the menfolk went to the store to buy dinner stuffs, and then we had hot dogs and french fries. See what I mean? That's the most exciting shit I've done in days.
I've got some things on the horizon, though. Jimi and Steve are brewing this weekend, it appears, and it will be fun to try to take pictures of that. The last Saturday of the month, we're going to Indianapolis for Winterfest with Rick & Jeff Tours. A beer-tasting event, with transportation and food included? What's that? And there will be beer on the bus on the way to Indianapolis? Yes please! Kimmie's birthday is the following Wednesday, and she'll be going on this trip to kick off her birthday week. (She's turning 40 this year; she's totally allowed to have a whole week.) She's got a full schedule of events planned, so I'll at least be able to make true that resolution to be more social. (Did I have a "be more social" resolution? If not, I meant to. I think I did.) Anyhow, so yes, even if Winterfest is the almost last day of January, I'll still count it as something social for the first month of the year. And Kimmie's birthday fun will count for February.
It's fucked up that I'm experiencing this thought process at all, isn't it? Are social things this hard for anyone else?
I joke a lot that I'm becoming agoraphobic. I shouldn't joke - I've never had a panic attack, and from what I hear, that shit ain't funny. But I really don't like leaving my house. Just thinking about going shopping or to the grocery or to a bar or even to my parents' house - it makes me get all uncomfortable and antsy and I instantly start calculating how long I'll have to stay there before I can go back home, always looking for the shortest route that will get me back home quickly, but also allows me to spend adequate time doing whatever thing it is I have to do that requires me to leave the house.
Normal people don't think that way, do they?
I wasn't always like this. I used to do whatever I could to get out of the house as often as possible. I was out at bars or friends' homes at least 5 nights a week. Then, when Jimi and I moved in together, our home felt like the safest place in the world, a place where nothing outside could hurt me or him, and I was content to get the majority of my socialization from inviting friends over. And since we've moved, we haven't had nearly as many gatherings as we used to - I get home and all I want to do is sit in the quiet. It's almost like I forget that there are people outside of my work family, my immediate family, and Jimi.
I sound crazy.
I'll be more social, though. I'll fix it. I don't need no shrink. I'm fine.