Last week I received a message from a reader, commenting that he had taken the time to read all of my blog posts and was wondering why on earth had I not written anything since my last post in April. Essentially, he called me out for being a flake…in a nice way, of course. Coincidentally, the Cosmo magazine I was reading last night, had a quiz that asked, “How Flaky Are You?”

I scored really high on that quiz. (and not in a good way) 

There is no real interesting reason for not writing other than I have been super unmotivated. In other words, “lazy.” Since April, I have been overly consumed with work, friends, unsuccessfully navigating the dating scene, traveling a ton, and spending a lot of time with my dog, Lennon. There has been plenty to write down, believe me, and I have actually journaled quite a bit. But it has been tough to transfer it to this platform.

I turned 36 during this, I don’t know… “lethargic” period and this mulling over whether or not I should be a writer and “actually sit down and write” was an added feature to my summer of turning the page to, yet, another year of life. I feel better now, (despite what that last sentence may have told you) but around May, I was experiencing a lot of anxiety about a lot of stuff, including turning 36. This anxiety got to be even more overwhelming, especially when I would take the time to consider putting it all down on paper…er, The Tortilla Kid. Because of course, we, and by we I mean “writers,” must document everything!

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. In fact, (and pardon my ego for assuming that I have a legacy to protect), all I envisioned was hundreds of years from now, someone reading through my writing and shockingly gasping the way my mom does when I curse in front of her or when I respond negatively to her statement of, “Ay, nomas ponte a resar!”

Truth be told, the Sunday after my birthday, I had close friends actually come over to my place to participate in a ritual of “the burning of ALL the journals” because somehow that was supposed to make everything better.

I even chickened out of doing that.

So here I am. Writing, yet again.

To be continued…