Work, Write, Work, Write Room

I feel like I'm moving through life in a fish bowl. At work, in class, at home and even online. Everybody wants or expects something and I'm tapped out. There is only one thing that I want to give myself over to and that is writing. I have to sneak around to write in this blog. It's indulgent to many. To me it's necessary, a feeding of the soul.

B threatened one of my writers a couple of weeks ago. The Writer called my house and wanted to come and visit. B thinks this man is obsessed with me. I know he's obsessed with the fact that I hold his his best work inside my computer. Because of technology failures and crazy relationship failures I became the keeper of the grail. I hold his writing. I am his editor. What do I do?

There's no balance. I'm pulled and pressed. It's 10 days until my birthday and 3 days after that I'm in Chicago for almost a week. No time to celebrate and my trip to the AWP conference will probably be spoiled by deadlines to projects.

I have come to the conclusion that explanations are vampires that bleed dry.