Hereto, I have neglected this blog for 10 days.

I cannot say I am sorry for any reason except that I've now no record of my thoughts the past week, and I'd much like to maintain recording them for this reason, for that reason.

I once journaled nearly every day and, sadly, the habit escaped me. But as hypocritical as I am about it, I hold onto the posture that journaling in a real paper/pencil combo journal is not only relieving, it is nearly a necessity.

Now that I cannot fathom catching up on my thoughts this past week, I will forgive myself the discrepancy of not retaining my goals and subsequently vow to keep on with what I have started. Why have I convinced myself to write upwards of every day? Because most of it is absolute trash that one good idea will eventually spring from. I am convinced that the discipline of this exercise I've set before myself will, at some point, provide something of substance that I can reap from this blog to use in my real writing. Until then, the mere act of practicing continues to sharpen the skills I learned at undergrad, and I do not, do not want to become lazy and lose those or forget my passions as I sat in a wooden desk and took notes.

Right now I have a ridiculous bugbite on my neck that will not stop itching. Since I have sensitive skin, my neck has blown up into a red conspiracy of raw skin with the single white bugbit beaming from its center. Bugs and their bites disgust me. (I also didn't creatively use "conspiracy" like that on my own. Well, I used it on my own, but I didn't think of it by myself. It comes from Fitzgerald. He says, "Her outfit was a conspiracy of pink and purple."

He's such a clever man, isn't he? At any rate, I don't even know which short story that comes from.)