This is Late but February is Short so Whatever
February is the worst month.
February is the last official winter month, and the weather is the worst of the three this year. Nothing in it feels like any sort of respite and, the last few years, it doesn't even seem to work into a transition into spring. What gives? Fuck this terrible month. Literally the only good things are that it's Kay's birth month and that it's Black History Month. And that's it.
Because I didn't do anything in January except get through it, I really felt like I needed to start doing something towards my writing. It felt (and continues to feel) like it's forced - but it always does. It never comes naturally. Maybe there are people for whom it does? I don't know. I don't know anyone for whom that is the case. Fiction is difficult. Essays are difficult. Why are things so fucking hard? Hey, I don't know. I'm chipping away at it. And I guess that sort of feels like A Deal, because I hadn't done anything in months and now the ball had begun inexorably rolling.
I tell myself that it doesn't have to be good, because my goal isn't a good book - just a complete one. Lots of people have written terrible stuff that was pretty well received, and I don't even care about the reception. I feel like writing is a terrible hobby because it never really feels great. I never feel good about what I'm doing when I'm doing it and very few people ever actually read anything I write, but I still feel compelled. It's just a thing and I have to do it.
We were gonna play D&D at the beginning of the month but people keep cancelling, and we haven't started yet, which feels super frustrating. It's not terrible - I just really want to play and I like the group a whole lot, so I keep getting super pumped and it has to be put off for another week. It's very reasonable, just... I keep hoping. I'm still really looking forward to it.