I’m not being entirely fair with myself, not even when I think I’m being fair about being fair. I’m a perfectly lovely person right now, and I feel that I’m missing something. There are more things that I want to do, and I feel like my hundred-ten-percent (actual percentage of true power may vary) is something I can attain, that my habits and sleep hygiene are keeping me from getting there.

I’d like to blog on the weekends again. Hell, I’d like to start blogging “regularly” again, in the sense that I put lots of thought into these writings, and working ahead significantly to the extent that I’m queuing them up several days at a time. I want to build up my comic’s buffer, I want to have a whole month’s worth of pages finished before they need to go online. I want to write one of my novels. One of them.

There is a single point of stress in my life that is taking up way too much of my focus, and I want to excise the emotional attachment I have to it. I think I’m hurting, right now, and I don’t think my habits are helping me recover from it. I keep feeling this urge to run away and curl up in a ball and just cry myself to sleep. I take that as a sign that something isn’t going well and that, changes (if only temporary), ought be made.