A Rant.

I feel yucky today. I think that the last four nights, going to bed at 2am has finally caught up with me. I feel like a zombie. I wish I could sleep when my hubby travels. Problem is, when he gets back from his trip completely exhausted, so am I, and we both just want to sleep. But I still have kids who need me, and the dog, house, etc. That's the only thing I envy him. He can come home from work, unwind and separate, but being a homemaker is 24/7, thankless, and exhausting.
Okay, rant over. I need to get my butt in gear here. I haven't done a smidge of writing (except this blog) for the last week. I've taken half-hearted stabs at research, but mostly I've surfed and Ebayed. Honestly, I wish I had the level of commitment and discipline some of my other writer friends have, who actually plan out how many words they'll write in a day, and take it so very seriously. Writing is like...eating for them.
I'm more of a recreational writer. I wish I wasn't. But my life SO gets in the way. My agent would be dismayed to know this, but I just can't seem to sit myself down and slap myself in the head.
But sometimes it goes the other way too. When I do get in a writing groove, I neglect everything around me, and my husband describes it as "falling into a deep dark hole" and I don't emerge except to do basic things like feed my family, get them ready for school, bed, etc. I HAVE TO FIND THE BALANCE and I am doing a rubbish job of it.
Today is one of those days where I want to toss up my hands in frustration and be done with it. I've lost the heart--at least for today.

Are all writers this manic depressive about writing? *wink*