i'm trying to write. sounds so simple, but it's sort of destroying me. it's an article for this chinese-american christian periodical, and it's something i sincerely want to do, but i feel like i'm trudging through all of the backwash trash of my current-and-several-month-accumulated mental state. i've got 2,217 words of straight-up poodle spit.
writing can be like exorcism. problematic, then, when i haven't done it for a while. i've got a dozen bored demons hanging around up there, waiting for something to happen. trying to shoo them out now is getting crowded and messy.
but on top of my writing angst, my legs are throbbing, my brain feels like it weighs fifteen pounds in my skull, suddenly i'm sweating for no apparant reason, and grace is baking cookies and i can smell them but i DON'T WANT ANY(!!).
it may be those backwash demons. i just hope it's not the flu.