If she had a desk, she would be beating her head against it now.
Writer's block, or the inner editor— that niggling voice that tells you you have nothing of importance to write— is talking in her head. It's telling her that that sentence she just wrote isn't making sense and that it's not interesting.
Interest, it seems, is very important in this day and age.
Her mother had once told her to write about her feelings. Feelings are alright… but how does one write about feelings?
She doesn't feel much when she looks at the things she's been exposed to over the past five months. Awe, happiness, a slight interest at the beautiful scenery, a mental note to remember something for future stories or worlds…
It's happening again. She's gotten this far, but all of a sudden she has the terrible feeling that what she's writing isn't any good— that it's too private, that it makes no sense… it's a terrible feeling.
There's always been the vague sensation that perhaps what she's writing isn't her best work, but there's a difference between a mild annoyance and a full-blown 'panic attack' about whether or not what she's writing is good enough.
Sometimes she thinks she just needs a looong break from everything and anything. Including writing. Or perhaps she just needs to get back in practice. Or perhaps she needs to set a timer.
The only problem is that the only writing she does regularly is the public sort. The sort that everyone is going to read and, perhaps, judge. Make that definitely judge.
She has the Friends TV Show Theme Song stuck in her head.
And now she can't remember a word of it.
If she had a desk to bang her head against, she would. Perhaps that might jog her brain cells back into place. It might even make her write something worth reading! Instead of just being fun to plug into Google Translate for laughs.
Perhaps this might actually be funny, this terrible suffering she's going through!
It's a heartening thought. Perhaps all this pain will be funny some day! Perhaps she'll be able to look back on it in a year or two (possibly even tomorrow) and laugh at how terrified she sounds of not writing anything worth reading.
Perhaps this will be in a book she might write in a year or two about going around the world. It will be a part of the 'blogging' chapter and it will be the best chapter in the entire book!
She realizes what she's just written and decides that no one will understand a word of this entire post. That it will not make sense, and that this day, the 101st day of this blog, will forever go down in history as being one of the strangest posts ever made.
She decides it's not worth crying about, and decides simply to post it. Tomorrow, as Disney so nicely put it, is another day.