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1/10/06 17:45![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
telarynYanno, in a perverse sort of way, it's liberating to have the external validation of your writer's group telling you: "No, it's not just you. Put the project down and back away for a while."
Now I feel like I can tackle it whenever I *feel* like working on it, and I'm not being irresponsible by rereading the Penguin in order to set myself up for NaNo.
Today was a good Telaryn mental health day, but like all Telaryn mental health days it was punctuated by (relatively) minor Dad drama, three calls from my mother and two calls from my daughter. All about fairly inconsequential shit -- hell, the Dad drama was that I told him very calmly that I did not appreciate him yelling at me about his morning medication when I was just trying to help.
Which got translated later to my mother that I was pissed off at him about something he said and stormed out of the house.
I'd almost go wtf?, but it's so commonplace these days that it just rolls off the metaphorical back. You have to go a little insane to do what we do.
And Robin's sinuses are acting up, so she doesn't feel well. Which meant that even though she interrupted me twice at writer's group, she still felt the need to whine at Grandma about "when is Mom coming home?"
*facepalm*
So now I'm home, the daughter has been medicated and comforted, and I have heard all the various and sundry adventures of the day.
I'm torn between saying "fuck it" and just going to bed, and curling up with the Penguin. Research. Yeah -- that's what it is. Research. :)
Now I feel like I can tackle it whenever I *feel* like working on it, and I'm not being irresponsible by rereading the Penguin in order to set myself up for NaNo.
Today was a good Telaryn mental health day, but like all Telaryn mental health days it was punctuated by (relatively) minor Dad drama, three calls from my mother and two calls from my daughter. All about fairly inconsequential shit -- hell, the Dad drama was that I told him very calmly that I did not appreciate him yelling at me about his morning medication when I was just trying to help.
Which got translated later to my mother that I was pissed off at him about something he said and stormed out of the house.
I'd almost go wtf?, but it's so commonplace these days that it just rolls off the metaphorical back. You have to go a little insane to do what we do.
And Robin's sinuses are acting up, so she doesn't feel well. Which meant that even though she interrupted me twice at writer's group, she still felt the need to whine at Grandma about "when is Mom coming home?"
*facepalm*
So now I'm home, the daughter has been medicated and comforted, and I have heard all the various and sundry adventures of the day.
I'm torn between saying "fuck it" and just going to bed, and curling up with the Penguin. Research. Yeah -- that's what it is. Research. :)
