fallen empires

I'm kind of annoyed with myself that I'm not more interesting. That's of course not the real issue. The real issue is, perhaps, that I'm chafing against having commitments, even though I like having paychecks. And I'm feeling antsy about Alex and Prudence, even though it's unlikely that I would have started writing their story yet even if I didn't have a job. And I'm feeling antsy about my job, and wanting to accomplish all the millions of things I want to accomplish there, even though I know that ambition at work is inversely correlated to the amount of time I'll have to do my own thing.

I suppose that I'm feeling that vague sense of unease that I always feel when I suddenly feel like I've walked myself into a trap. Not that I'm trapped - and, if I'm trapped, I'm trapped in the most gilded of cages. But I'm committed to this job, and I'm committed to writing the next x books in this series, and I'm committed to my apartment because SF has gotten too expensive to move elsewhere. And all this commitment makes me want to blow everything up, chop off my hair, and go off the grid. But I won't, which I guess means that I'm growing up...which is another weight to add to the list of reasons why I want to blow everything up.

sssanyway. I worked all day, although it wasn't that brutal because I took my 8:30 meeting from home and then caught a 9:30 shuttle. I spent the day slogging, caught a 6:30pm shuttle, was home by 7:30, and had a burger and a glass of wine with Terry. Then I came home and was going to write in my journal, but instead redid the blue cover for the paperback version of MARQUESS, since I decided that using pink on the spine was too hard to read and I wanted to make it white (but had failed to save the correct version of Photoshop with editable text layers, so I had to recreate the whole thing). And now, I should sleep; I have to slog tomorrow, and I want to write this weekend, and I need to do all these things without going off the grid. Goodnight!