still.....nothing

that's right. nothing. i spend a good portion of my summer in writing class all day--learning what is necessary to be a writer. what's the most important thing? TO ACTUALLY, PHYSICALLY WRITE--and not wait on inspiration to strike. i know this. it is ingrained into my psyche. and yet here i sit, day after day... not writing. why? i don't know. i am not making myself do it. i am not choosing to spend my time, pen in hand, journal open. there is no rhyme or reason behind it.
i've had time.
i've spent my time in the following ways instead:

• wasting time in cyberspace..gaming, or researching things
• reading books
• doing crosswords
• watching TV/movies
• painting--but only a little
• sleeping...a lot
• thinking about Jaxon

now, that's not to say that i am berating myself here, because i'm not. some of what i was doing was entirely necessary. and some of it was mentally necessary. i just wish i had spent some time writing. i'm not sure how much time i'll have for it when little man is born...