I don’t feel like writing.

It scares me, this lack of enthusiasm for the blog.  

I just wrote about making new goals and striving to achieve them and instead of inciting me to action I feel pushed away.

I think I’ve indentified part of it: it’s less fun for me, more stressful.  My standards for what I put here are extremely high and it takes me up to 5 hours to write a thoughtful, moving piece when it used to take me an hour or two.

I could blame life changes for that, but I don’t think that’s it; I’m more easily distracted and I don’t feel as welcome in my own space.  

I’ve gone and fucked this up somehow.

To combat this, I’ve decided that I will write more, not less.  Lower my standards for a post and fucking play here again. 

Play with my words, my body, you.

 I used to post lots of nothing — lots — and it felt like a playground, like swinging high above the treetops, spinning faster than a top.  I could do anything I wanted, have any voice, share my thoughts and ideas without worry that there was a hole in my argument.  

I want that back.

So, to kick that off here’s a random nude pic of me.  Raw, real, and [barely] exposed.  Just like I used to be, just like I want to be: playful and seductive, playful and here.