This post has nothing to do with running

So it's almost 7 pm and I'm finding myself at home, having left the newspaper office after a day of writing and with an hour to think before I head out for the night to Job #2 and don't have time to think anymore.

I've been writing, writing and writing at work, even more than usual due to some short staffing, and then when I come home late at night, I've been trying ...to write...some more... to advance my personal and professional goals. But it's a struggle. I haven't been sleeping enough. My mind is too full. Sometimes I just need to claw my way out of my head, and I don't know how.

As usual, I am feeling anxious and overwhelmed about my current workload, and frustrated by how long it's taking me to complete things, and to put my goals into action. Weekends exist only as slightly less stressful days of work, but there is always work to be done. There is no time for mental relaxation.

Any other writers out there who really loathe the process of writing but feel compelled beyond your control to do it? Like there isn't any other thing you'd feel right spending so much time on but that saps your energy completely?

I mean, I love telling people's stories through words. A good story gives me a high better than any drug could. 

For the first time, recently, I admitted to myself that this whole love-hate relationship with writing thing is not something that's really going to go away. If I'm going to write for a living, I better learn how to do it well without killing myself doing it. Otherwise, I'd better become a full-time pizza delivery girl, because what else is there for me to do?

Just kidding. Sort of.

Obviously, not so much writing has been going on the blog lately, and I haven't been running much this week either. I feel rather disgusting. I think it's a summer/fall transition thing. The seasons are changing, and with them, my habits. Spring and summer is when I go out into the world to be with people, drawing inspiration from nature and letting new ideas percolate. Fall is always full of beginnings for me, putting the ideas into action and spending more time curled up at home, writing late into the night.

As my birthday comes closer, the only gift I'm asking for is to figure out how to pay for life (i.e. student loans, rent, possibly food) and still have time for myself. It would be nice if that did not involve delivering pizza to drunk people until 2:30 a.m.

And with that, I'm off to deliver pizza to drunk people until 2:30 a.m.