My brain is turning into a bag full of cats.

Three and Five.
That’s all I got done on the list for this week.
And I’ll be blunt with you, the actual taxes were already done. I just had to send them out.
I won’t lie.  I’m disappointed in myself.
Sure, the stedicam testing was out of the question because it was raining on both of my days off. But the last two…

I just have not been able to focus properly.
A lot of it has been depression. Partly the recent loss of mom which I’m still working though. (Which is why you haven’t seen a piece from me about Roger Ebert’s recent passing. I haven’t written about my mom yet and I didn’t want to write a piece about him while not writing about her.  It didn’t sit right.
And I’m not righting a piece about her because there’s a whole set of issues I’d rather get straight in my head before spilling them out on a public forum.)
But I’m also dealing with…Well, let’s just say that I’m looking at the sales figures for the book this quarter and I’m feeling like the opposite of success.
And you throw in the daily horror show of crap that passes by my eyes on a daily basis and…

The abyss has been glaring at me like I just banged his underaged daughter.
Later today, I’m shooting a concert for a friend at the Methodist Church and on the way back, I’m stopping at the herbalist and stocking up on St. John Wort.  Maybe that will get me back on the beam.
But at this point, I ain’t willing to make book on it.


About theragingcelt

Actor/Writer/Homegrown Pundit/Cranky Progressive/Sometimes Filmmaker.
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