Fine! I give...I give....

Okay, it seems like everyone I know is blogging these days. I don't really see the point...can't imagine too many people wanting to read about my hectic, highly uneventful life. But hey, call me a lemming and watch me jump off the cliff.

Yes, there are days where I really do feel on the edge of insanity. I have this goal, you see. A goal of writing full time and making an actual career out of it. Doesn't seem too difficult. At least not until you throw in a family....one I'me convinced wouldn't know how to do a darn thing to survive should I step off the curb tomorrow morning and get run over by Tony Stewart in his bright orange #20 Home Depot car...and a job from hell that sends my blood pressure through the roof and turns my brain to pudding.

I'm supposed to write through this???

Yes! At least that's what I'm told. I'm supposed to make this happen! Put my butt in the chair and write that story...conflict, plot, sex....all without falling asleep. Hey, no problem! Just let me grab those trusty clothespins of mine to hold the old eyelids open. Ouch! Splinters in the eyelids are not fun.

Oh, and let's not forget the the sixteen year old who thinks my writing is her mortal enemy. Why? Uh, hellooooooo, you're not paying attention to me, mom . I'm bored. I'm hungry. I'm bored. I need money. You're ignoring me! Any of those people telling me to "write through it" wouldn't last five minutes with her standing in front of the desk tapping on the printer to get my attention. Teenagers....now I understand why lions eat their young.

It's difficult forcing myself to write through all this, but I do. Not nearly as much as I should or as I want to. But when I'm dragging into the house after working late yet again to find the dishwasher still hasn't been unloaded, the sink is overflowing with dirty dishes and the mountain of laundry is approaching a height that would bring tears to any thrill-seeking mountain climber, I think about that goal. Someday, I'll be sitting in that chair, in my pajamas, living in my make-believe world and actually getting paid for it. Someday, I'll be able to laugh at those teachers that told me to stop daydreaming in class and focus, or give an Italian salute to the guidance counselors that told me I was destined to become either a park ranger or a domestic servant (and no matter what my teenager believes, I do NOT fall into that second category). Someday, I will be one of those fortunate people who actually get paid for doing something they love!

I just hope I have enough tequila and margarita mix to get me through until that day comes.