I'm Tired

Madeline Kahn

Here I stand, the goddess of Desire
Set men on fire
I have this power
Morning noon and night it's drink and dancing
Some quick romancing
And then a shower
Stage door Johnnies always surround me
They always hound me
With one request
Who can satisfy their lustful habits
I'm not a rabbit
I need some rest
I'm tired
Sick and tired of love
I've had my fill of love
From below and above
Tired, tired of being admired
Tired of love uninspired
Let's face it
I'm tired
I've been with 1000's of men
Again and again
They promise the moon
They always coming and going
Going and coming
And always too soon
Right girls?
I'm tired
Tired of playing the game
Ain't it a crying shame
I'm so tired
God dammit I'm exhausted
...

The rest of the lyrics can be found at Genius.com But that is pretty much me right now. ...but not with sex. That is the one thing I could do with more of. I can count on one hand how many times the hubby and I have had time for such things this year, and that's a crying shame. No, I'm tired of pretty much everything else.

Renovating the house was such a stress. I told myself, "Oh as soon as it's on the market, I can finally rest!" It was on the market for 2 days! Now it's paperwork, contracts, electrician bills that kill and waiting, OH THE WAITING IS KILLING ME!!! Will they buy it? Won't they? Will their lender let them buy it?

AND

Of the two novellas I started in October, The Artist is really close to being done. Just some tightening of the plot and some editing...The Zombie Book is still about halfway done. I was hoping to have them both done by now and in the final editing stages, but I am behind. I blame myself. I can't seem to write at home. Not a word. At work, I can usually carve out an hour after all my work is done, but these past four weeks I can't think at night. My brain is drained. I'm exhausted in the worst way. Red Bull alone sustains me.

My eyes are burning as I'm writing this...I don't know if it's the mental and emotional drain of selling my home and living with my mother during the processes (not that my mom is the problem. It's being the official diplomat between my family and my husband, that's the fun bit)

Maybe my love for writing would win out against my lack of focus if I had some reviews for my latest book, Toxic Warrior. That's not me fishing for reviews. I'm just stating a fact. It's hard to be a self starter when you're never certain of yourself or what you're doing. Toxic has been out for more than two months now and sales are low and there are zero reviews...that sort of thing makes an artist think, maybe I'm wasting my time. And when you start to think like that, writing becomes a reminder of a failure.

So there I am: in financial, emotional, artistic limbo...