Burnout is a funny word for something that feels so completely unfunny when you’re in it.
At the moment, even putting pen to paper, or more accurately fingers to keyboard, feels harder than it should. Creativity has wandered off somewhere, motivation seems to have gone with it, and most things feel more like chores than choices. The mood is low, joy is proving annoyingly difficult to locate, and there isn’t much spare energy left for turning any of that into something clever, witty, or worth reading.
So that’s why things are a little quiet here right now. I could probably force myself to write something, but I’m not sure that would help. For the moment, I’m trying to accept that sometimes there just isn’t much in the tank. Hopefully that changes. Until then, this is about as much as I’ve got.