This is me. Especially when it comes to writing.

Current example: At the end of October, I completed my fifth novel. I was so relieved and happy to be done with it so I could move on to the next project. I’ve been waiting patiently to start with this new book since summer; plotting, thinking of characters, plot points, etc.

Fast forward to now.

I’m feeling overwhelmed by books I want to read. I’ve been recruited to act in a play. There are new songs I want to learn on my guitar. My Hulu.com queue is getting backed up. I want to finish watching The Wire and Breaking Bad. I’ve discovered the joy of killing zombies on Call of Duty: Black Ops II. I want to hit the gym every day.

Hell, even as I write this my head is going cock eyed and my eyes glossy while I watch ESPN and ponder how long I should wait before I fire up the Xbox (because hey, the house is empty and for once I won’t have kids hounding me about playing with me).

I also want pizza.

….What was I talking about?


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