Maudlin Writing.

I spent the day writing yesterday.  I don't know if it is any good I haven't reread anything yet.  I am fairly sure that it is writing vomit.  But I had a good time, and managed to get a few story idea outlines.

Perhaps for a "job" after the kids leave I can write and bring in a few dollars.  I don't consider myself a writer, my friend Margaret is the writer in my group.  But I do enjoy it, and hate it at the same time.  And it helps me get something creative done.

After so many years hanging around the theater community I really miss doing something creative, and this does help.

You know I do feel people have the lives they picked.  A lot of days I know I picked wrong too many times.  From David, then my collage major...Thanks to David I missed so much time with Bill.  My eye sight turned to mush so I can't work in film.

I even went to collage so I wouldn't not being doing what I'm doing now.  Staying home with kids. Now I'm 50 most of my life behind me, and the kids just a few years from leaving home. 

There are days I feel like such a waste of space.

I know I'm not, but it's hard not to go there.  I really don't have a way of people knowing I was hear.  Kids that will be a burden on society until they die.  Half siblings who barely know me.  And the background of a unloving mother doesn't help.

So perhaps if I keep writing, someday there will be a cure for autism, and Glen and Rachel might know their mother adored them.  Or I won't fade into absurdity like some many others before me. 

When all is said and done it's okay if I do, but I am going kicking and screaming.

Enough of that crap, I'm off to finish the laundry.  Wheeeee......