So here we are at last. I've hit it. On this, the twelfth day of attempting to post every day for a month, I really, really don't want to write.
Bless my higher self for making me show up grumbling at the page.
Here's the thing: I don't write a tech-y blog. I'm not a geek. I'm not a cook who posts recipes. I'm not a Yummy Mummy, though I am a mother. I'm not a scrapbooker, photographer or maker. I'm not a farmer or a woman who has moved countries and blogs about that.
I'm a Livvy, and what I write about is me. Today I have discovered that some days I want to remain private. It's my Saturday-night-in night, my one very alone night of the week, and my thoughts are many, and ranging, and they run deep. I don't want to mine them tonight.
And I have a terrible suspicion that because I am writing many of my posts very quickly, in order to get them date-stamped before midnight, the quality of the writing is beginning to suffer. And God knows, it's hard for me to offer up anything less than my best - it pains me (and probably holds me back immeasurably in life).
So tonight I'm having a rant at my decision to do this thing - at the same time as knowing that NaBloPoMo veterans could well say that this is the very moment that I must keep going.
And just because I'm bloody-minded, and because doing this is all part of the bigger 'make Livvy's life happier' project, I'm damn well going to.