plenty of excuses, which are just that, excuses. why I haven’t posted, why I’m not creating, why I’m not doing anything that isn’t just enough to get through the day to day that has become my life. A visit with family over the holidays resulted in a trip to my uncle’s office. He has a bobble-head of Michael Vick and a bobble-head of a rottweiler, laughing about it my uncle said, “Yeah, I know lots of people who aren’t living up to potential.” I know this wasn’t directed at me- but I couldn’t help applying it to myself- I’m not living up to potential. What am I doing? In this life or otherwise. Jesus- I’m 31 years old and though I talk a good game, that’s all it is- Talk and Game. I sit in admiration of others and say, “I wish…” or, “I could…” but it never really goes any farther. I want to do, but I always get sidetracked. I start, but don’t finish. I lose interest. The things I want to do turn out to be a lot of work, and I already do enough of that and get increasingly farther behind in spite of my best efforts. I rush in and fear to tread, all at the same time. What have I accomplished? Nothing. My family and friends believe in me and support me, but I never seem to do anything. I’m just fed up and and depressed and more than a little apathetic. I feel like like some bastardized conglomeration of Charlie Brown and James Taggart. Paralyzed by own anxiety and self-loathing and too lazy to do anything about either.