521. yellow butterflies in the eyes

It's often the easy things that are hard. In this case, I refer to writing. Writing is not "hard." Especially with computers nowadays, you can punch keys on a keyboard and letters pop up almost instantaneously. Yet, writing is actually hard. Thoughts may flow through my mind like ants around an ice cream scoop left on the sidewalk, but when I try to gather and scoop them up, it melts through the crevices between my fingers. 

Earlier in the year, I have set a non-accountable goal to blog two or three times a week. Currently, I'm averaging 0.375 posts per week. It's more of a "too lazy" than a "too busy" issue. I'm foolish to think that writing is simple. It's time and energy and concentration and more time. Yet, it's probably a skill I need to hone. I'm always jealous at how people can be so articulate, often times, spontaneously so. Some train at it and some are natural and it'd do me no good to vent. My job, if I so desire, is to practice. Time to reorient my goals for the twenty ninth time this year.