Last night while working the bar, I talked to my coworkers and my favorite regular about writing. I told them I felt that, while I write for one of my two jobs and do a column, I feel completely uninspired and ready to work on something that I really care about. I made excuses as to why I have very little time to write–overworked, underpaid, things of that nature–and went home feeling tired and frustrated with the entire situation. I set my alarm to wake up early and do some writing before work.
At 4 a.m., however, my phone started ringing. It rang every hour until about 11 a.m.
I love my family. I am lucky to have people who love me, support me and make me laugh–most of the time. Unfortunately, my parents have never quite gotten around to growing up.
Talk of jail, bail, and my amazing sister having to talk to the cops at 3 a.m. while her high school friends (having a sleepover) sat terrified in her bedroom filled my early-morning hours.
Aside from the jail, this is nothing new. It’s always something. It always involves drinking. It always leaves my mom sleeping soundly until 5 p.m. the next day while I struggle to work on 3 hours of sleep.
Maybe I can write tomorrow.
