Slow, all so painfully slow.

Sometimes I just have to start somewhere even if it doesn't make sense or look good or feel like me, anything just to get started again. I've had zero motivation, I feel sluggish in every possible way but not with reason, not really. I very much dislike it when you're producing so little plus of little quality that you become hideously protective and precious about every little scrap you do manage to make. So - I cut it all up and re-arranged it and to anyone else it probably doesn't look really any different but in my mind it is complete and now I can move on, after months of it peeking at me. Please let this have been the hard part, the mental block, please. Otherwise, I just can't stand it. Not one minute longer. 

It started with this at the beginning of summer which was quick and instantly gratifying but then came the pauses and the 'oh this has potential' and thus came the over thinking of which I spoke recently. My words are also being choked, I believe my mistake was to begin reading the words of others who I admire and somehow instead of being encouraged and inspired, their words left me silent, mute in fact. Silence suggests a pause but this muteness I fear is growing slowly, festering. So it's back to old tricks to cajole myself, listening to old men playing banjo's, watching documentaries about whales, looking through old photographs, dipping into sections of my favourite books and chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate. And then perhaps I too will write one of those cheery, cutesy, cosy posts that I keep reading about, you know about autumn and how much 'I' love it!