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For some odd reason I’m drop dead tired and in a wicked bad mood. I just want to crawl back in bed, pull the covers up over my head and sleep until noon.  Unfortunately having moved into my own place recently, random mental health days are no longer an option. I know it’s hard, but I’m almost 40 years old and it was time for me to be on my own.  I’m embarrassed to admit I lived with my parents as long as I did.  Oh well. What’s done is done and I’ve finally struck out on my own so it’s best not to dwell.

I love my new apartment.  I love being able to pick and choose what I eat without commentary. I can come out of my bedroom and watch tv without anyone bugging me or changing the channel mid-program.  At the ‘rents house I was still a child and it didn’t matter what I wanted.  Here, in my own place, all by myself, what I want is the ONLY thing that matters and I like it that way.  It’s been an eye opener for me to be on my own. Living with my parents made me soft, unable to do for myself. I’m getting better though.

Tired – did I mention how freakin tired I am?

Anyways my boss is on vacation this week and I’m running her reports.  It really isn’t that big a deal but I’ll still happily give them back to her when she returns.  My job really isn’t all that bad.  It just doesn’t pay much and it’s tedious.  I have a wicked hard time staying awake most days. I’d really like to find something I could do from home but I’ve had no luck finding anything.

I’ve daydreamed for years about being a writer.  I have several characters in mind for my stories to revolve around. I dream up all kinds of scenarios for them while I sit at work, watching screen after repetitive screen flash by.  But then when I get home, my imaginary friends refuse to come out and play.  All I want to do is lay on the futon and watch crap tv.

I also think that even if I did manage to write something that I was proud of, the competition for publishing is fierce.  I don’t think I have the talent to get published and even if I did, how would I market it?  I hate the twitter twits that post tweet after tweet schilling their wares.  Does it make me want to read their books?  No, it makes want to unfollow them and send them on their merry way. Seriously, that’s annoying.  Quit it.

I guess that’s enough grouchy musing for now. Time to get off my lazy bum and go to work, watch my tedious screens and chat with the imaginary friends running riot in my brain when I should be focused on other things.

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