If I fail to write a PDXX Blog post every two weeks, I must be excused because:
- I have SAD.
- I have sadness.
- I don’t fucking feel like it.
- Any kind of deadline brings crushing anxiety. (Yes, I went to graduate school to be a writer. Don’t judge me like that. I can see your derisive snarl from here.)
- I’m destined for greater things and should be working on those very important things instead.
- The Republicans took the senate and concentrated denial requires all the mental and emotional energy I have right now.
- I don’t think I have my own personhood anymore.
- I’d rather be at karaoke.
- Wasn’t I writing a book? I shouldn’t work on anything else if I’m not working on that book.
- I procrastinated. I procrastinate. I’m still procrastinating.
- Sometimes at night I think about my family dying and then I get very frightened and cry a little. I can’t stop it.
- Only my friends read what I write, and they love me anyway.
- Maybe I should up my meds?
- You didn’t notice that I didn’t submit a blog post. Nothing is missing in your life.
- I got E. coli. Not Ebola. E. coli.
- My intense love of writing died in young adulthood and I’ve been parading around its translucent corpse like an Olympic torch.