I don't have to tell you this, but it is so hard to make anything without falling into the hole of never-good-enough. Every time I hear the trite expression (and it's mostly my own brain that brings it up) "good enough is the enemy of best," I enrage myself and want to tell someone, anybody, that best is a known killer of at-all. As much as I love doing things, and I love to do things, so much more of my time passes thinking about the things I'm too self-disparaging to attempt.

Speaking of fear, I've undertaken a semi-intentional new enterprise in dealing with mine. In the last week I developed a solid handful of new crushes, and I am head-over-heels. When I succeed in ignoring the glaring similarity to chronic anxiety (racing pulse, chills and hot flashes, shaking, obsessive thought patterns), I'm almost able to believe in them. On the down (up?)side, my thoughts are nonstop romance-novel-verging-on-softcore-porn-verging-on-hardcore-porn, and it is an unarguable diversion.

Of me, not by me: 

The pressure of no-new-photos is building to dangerous levels. Without my preferred outlet, who knows what might get shared.