I told myself it was going to happen. I said it over and over. I was convinced that it was going to be different this time. Because this time I was serious. It wasn't going to be like the other times. Those times when I was less committed, or real with myself. Those times when I wasn't as serious. 
But it was just like before. Like all those other times. 

I told myself I would write today. That I would sit at the page and let the words flow out and, even if they didn't make any sense, would just be written. 
But it was just like before. Like all those other times. 

The carpets needed to be vacuumed. The kitchen needed to be cleaned. The car needed an oil change and maybe some new windshield wipers for the rain that rarely comes in Southern California. 
It was just like before. 

Another day went by and, even though I wrote my Morning Pages and in a journal, nothing much else was written. The pages were blank, the cursor didn't move, the ink in the pen was still fresh and full and everything else got done, except the one thing I told myself I'd do. 
Just like before. 

But then today came. And after a cup of coffee and a walk with the dog, I sat down in my chair and found myself with a pen and paper. Writing. I didn't even have to tell myself to do it. It just happened. 
Like before. 

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