I must be tired. I always go through raging periods of self doubt when I'm in desperate need of rest. Especially if instead of taking a day off to rest when I need it, I come to work and sit here, stuck in the office, doing administrative things, punctuating my day by viewing/reading/listening to incredibly creative things done by other people. Then I start to feel like a fraud. Like I've never had an original idea in my life. Like I call myself a writer, yet I haven't done any serious writing in at least two months, not counting web writing and revising old work. Like I don't have the chutzpah necessary to escape my corporate bonds and Do What I Love. Like all of my dreams are merely delusions and all of my attempts to follow my dreams are simply distractions designed to keep me in denial of the fact that I'm doomed to an administrative career; and then I start to feel depressed.

Kind of like how I feel right now: empty, shriveled up and talentless, and too tired to give a damn.

I think I'll feel better if can just get a good night's sleep. I haven't had one of those in well over a week, maybe two. If it's not outright insomnia, it's people or animals or freaky-assed night terrors waking me up in the middle of the night and making it impossible to go back to sleep.

I just want to go home and play for a while with Fizgig and go to sleep for a good solid 8 hours, a deep, dreamless sleep, then wake up and spend the day cultivating ideas and turning them into reality. If I could just do that, everything would be good again.