I’m feeling tension and despair this morning.  Spent the weekend writing and the results were just bad. I’m just not a natural narrator.  My story flows like one told by a five year old, where every single sentence starts with, “And then…!”  Frustrating.

My problem seems to be that I just don’t have a story worth telling.  I guess I need to be honest with myself.  Why do I want to be a writer?  The honest answer is that I detest people with an unholy passion and I want to be able to support myself without leaving my cave.  I want to be the Unabomber without the ranting manifestos or the blowing people up. I just want to live in a shack out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but my books and my cats for company – and the cats are getting on my last good nerve so they may be optional.

I went to visit my family this past weekend.  I wanted to leave about 5 seconds after I hit the door.  The whole visit just felt strained and uncomfortable to me. These are my peeps and I love them more than anything, but good God are they annoying,  All I could think of the whole time I was around them was going back to my cave, stretching out on the couch and cat-napping in front of the tv. That’s really all I want out of life.

I hate Houston – that’s where I live btw.  It’s so unbelievably hot here it’s unreal.  I’m a winter. I love boots and sweaters and chilly rainy days.  I love mountains and waterfalls. I dream of running away to the great northwest but I know I’ll never do it.  I’m turning 40 soon and I feel like I may as well be 80. Pain, both physical and emotional are my daily companions. And as much as my family annoys me, the thought of being unable to get to them if they needed me upsets me to no end. My parents aren’t getting any younger. I can barely take care of me but I worry about taking care of them. I guess I’m just a big basket of crazy,

As much as it pains me to do it, it’s time to get off my lazy arse, go to work and spend the day struggling not to throttle people who annoy the ever-loving bejeesus out of me. Maybe someday I’ll win the lottery and run away.  Is the Unabomber shack still available?

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