It only makes sense that I'd have writer's block when trying to write my first blog post. I mean, nothing is ever easy, right? I suppose blogging is no exception. But I'm going to press on.
As for nothing being easy, well, nothing is, but I'm trying hard these days. I'm trying to make it through 4 and 1/2 more years of an English lit. PhD program, despite being on year 22 and 1/2 of school already (that's more than a little sad, I know). I'm tired, and I'm underpaid (me and every other teaching assistant out there), and I can't even imagine coming up with a dissertation topic. (Ideas?)
I'm trying to write a novel. Though at this point, I'd settle for a complete poem. Time and mental energy are a bit elusive these days. I'd call it writer's block, but even that seems like I'm giving myself too much credit.
I'm trying to make a baby. I've got some help here from my hubby, of course. We're on month four; I'm getting a little impatient. And of course, every woman at Target has a new baby, a whole brood, or the cutest little baby bump that ever made me gag (jealousy looks particularly bad on me). I usually just have an iced caramel macchiato.
Some lesser efforts: trying to figure out why my husband enjoys Monster Hunters 3; trying to get up the energy for Zumba, to take the Christmas decorations down, to put the laundry away; trying to eat something other than potato chips or fries for dinner.
Some of these things are going better than others. The wallpaper in our powder room is halfway down (and has been since August). The freezer's got a half gallon of Heath ice cream, some wings, and not much else. My husband swears he's going grocery shopping tomorrow, before the Steelers take on the Jets. Of course, he also swore he was going today. I'll give the guy a break: he drives 60 miles each way to work five days a week. Basically, we're trying.