Speculative Searchers

It took me a very long time to figure this out- why the fuck am I not writing? After planning and outlining, when it comes to write, I basically have nothing. I think I have some innate laziness which causes me to nap all the time. So now, I am going to write. Because I need to. I haven't in probably four months. WELL, I haven't completed anything since those four months ago. Bleh. That old gramps and brat script somehow got lost in the pile of old notebooks. I haven't really figured out how to get the old grandpa and the brat alone together to bond. I drove the family out with some competition for the sister, had the grandpa situated near the family so the boy can spend his weekends with him, and had the grandpa in the house where the boy lives. I need those two to bond without some annoying child or meddlesome parent. :(

I also realize that I hate where my life is going at the moment. I think I am experiencing with Kafka was feeling when he wrote The Metamorphosis. I hate being able to relate to books. Especially sad, depressing ones. I am going to read Harry Potter again and be able to relate to Harry again. His life has been one major battle after the other, but he manages to be happy. I don't know how he does it, but I sure would love that optimism and determination.