*sigh*

[gallifreyangoth]

Ok then.

I decided a few weeks ago that I just wasn't capable of writing after a night at work. I was just too mentally drained by that place to be able to sit down and actually make the words work.

Tonight, work was really slow. I was chatting with theravada and wishing I had brought a copy of the story with me, or that I could go home early so I could work more on it. I was pumped and excited and ready to work.

Here it is, like four hours later, and my head feels like some sort of bomb went off inside it and has left only mush. So much for writing tonight.

So much for doing anything. I think I will take the rest of the cookies I made over the weekend and my book and go to bed. I don't even think I have it in me to watch a video.

Dammit, I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I could just stay home and do this, either because I was making money off of it, or because I had someone around to pay the bills and stuff and let me concentrate on what I really like to do.

Unfortunately, that second one isn't going to happen for a very long time. If ever.