It's super early in the morning and I know that I should be working.  In fact, there are images passing through my brain, but they slip by too quickly to catch them.  I know some of it is stress.  I'm in the middle of moving out of my house with my roommate and moving in with the parents.  

My roommate is from a town in Wisconsin about 2 hours away and he really seems to be missing his family.  He seems depressed every time he goes home and he doesn't like his job, (the job I have as well), so we are moving into our respective parents homes.  Then, I need to get set up to take the GRE so that I can look into getting my MA.  

It's a bit overwhelming to look at my future and realize that I am going to have to make some serious changes.  I know that i need to be working on my writing, but I feel myself becoming depressed more and more often and I know that this move is a large part of it. 

On the bright side, I'm going to have an office set up at the parents house and I'll be able to have the writing area that I always wanted.  I'm going to be able to sit in a special place where writing is the main aim.  I'll be able to feel like I have a place where I should be writing when I'm there and my writing room in this house hasn't been put together for over a year. It turned into a junk room and looking at it made me want to shove my head through a window.  Hopefully this will turn out as promising as I continue to think it is.  

Still, there are the images and the thoughts.  The thoughts about the story I'm supposed to be writing.  The images that shoot through my head when I'm sitting alone in my living room staring at the cursor.  I know that it's getting to be time to write.  I can always feel it coming on, but I never know when it's going to start working the way I want it to.  I hope it's soon.  I hope it's before I lose my mind.

Yesterday, I was antsy and wanted to get somewhere and through that antsiness (not really a word, probably, but it seems to fit) I managed to submit 2 short stories.  But by the time I went to bed, i didn't feel like I had gotten enough done.  My brain was twisted and tired, but I felt like I hadn't gotten anywhere.  The waiting game is hard, but the not being able to work at all, even when you are home sick and sitting on the computer (since that's the only thing that doesn't make me need medical attention for my angry gall bladder).  I want ot write.  The part of me that feels like writing when something really good is going to come out is charged, but there's nothing coming out. 

I have a kitten sitting on the couch next to me, in the middle of murdering a roll of paper towels, which I will have to replace from my roommate.  I have another kitten sleeping a foot away from me on the couch and then 2 adult cats prowling.  I've sat with the tv off and put on a movie (which sometimes sparks me), I tried music and I tried moving around.  I walked around the house letting my mind wander and I've sat in front of a blinking cursor!  The house is rather calm, the roommate still isn't up (wow) and I don't have any company.  

I'm becoming so frustrated with this lack of productivity and it's only going on 12 hours now.  I guess it's something I should get over, but it is bringing me to laughing and not that good kind of laughing -- no, it's more the let me out of this straight jacket kind.  I feel like there is nothing i can do to help my brain start working right.  I wish there was something.