Treading water

To use an old expression...which is odd because I can't swim. But today was not the best for writing or focusing or anything. Too much real life interfering with fiction world for me to let it go. And I've been so damn tired, lately. I could easily sleep 10 hours a day...and sometimes do on the weekends.

Didn't help that the internet was acting weird, too, and I had trouble getting things finished at work...and didn't get done with some of it. So I took a nice long walk and ate a crappy burger at Burger King and now feel even weirder.

I dunno...maybe I'm finally getting worn down by all these years of self-support in the emotional realm. Not that family and friends haven't been supportive of my neverending push to be a writer, but there's been nothing on the "significant other" front for so many years, I don't think I'd know what to do if I did connect with someone. Probably fuck it up, and not in a fun way.

What's even more fun is, just as I need to focus on my writing, I want to paint. But I have no studio. My apartment has a rug and it's new, so if I get paint on it, I'm stuck for replacement. So I can't do anything like that till I get a tarp to put down to protect it. And then what?

Damn...I'm feeling so much like a cat, right now -- just want to stretch out over a heating pad and toast my belly as I gaze off at nothing and everything in a feline sort of ennui. *Sigh*