I had set out to write tonight, got dressed, got my butt into my writing studio. I realized how often b.s. stands in the way. Right at 7 when I sit to write, my blood sugar dips to 62 and takes with it any capacity to think clearly. so, I sit here, pecking away at the keys with one hand, the other holding up my sagging head, fully aware of the dullness and myriad (yeah, I know it's overused) of typos and punctuation crap. but, whatever, i guess i'll edit later. i have vowed to write weekly, so here is the crap that flows when i am low. now i will lower my sagging head to the cold desk at sit back as i watch my swirling mind slowly be fed more and more sugar and hope that the endless lows choose not to kill the parts of my brain that i need and use, maybe theyll destroy my worry center or my hyper critical part, or maybe the part that loves any sort of goodie late at night. guess we'll find out soon enough. (push "post"" without a second look) -