God damn, I am glad my week is over, even if it was only two days long. Been in a wierd headplace. This weekend, one of my brother's old running crew got brutally murdered. (Emphasis on brutal.) Don't really feel grief - haven't seen the guy since I was a squirt - but it has devistated the families of my childhood which is sort of frustrating and upsetting to watch. Also, one of my kids got blasted in the face this weekend by another one of ours (but not mine). So, nothing to send me into a grief spiral, but enough to make me feel sort of uncomfortable and resigned and fatalistic. Well, moreso than usual. Nasty. Brutish. Short. Some things never change.
And, of course, I can't get any writing done. Well, I *can*, I just don't, I guess. It's frustrating to be so close to finishing a project (That I've been working on since the last time I really *was* in a grief spiral) and unwilling to do a handful of relatively minor additions to get this thing in the can. That is the nature of me, I suppose.
And, of course, I can't get any writing done. Well, I *can*, I just don't, I guess. It's frustrating to be so close to finishing a project (That I've been working on since the last time I really *was* in a grief spiral) and unwilling to do a handful of relatively minor additions to get this thing in the can. That is the nature of me, I suppose.
Re: writing, I can't wait to mark up your manuscript. It's gonna be my on-the-train thing unless I'm knitting.