I just can't do it. I just can't rework a major project in little snippets, especially when I have a more-than-full-time job. I'm not making excuses, though I'm also not saying I need an excuse. I do other things. I need to. I play Candy Crush to relax. I sometimes just stare at the wall. I go out sometimes. I eat stuff. Buy stuff. And I look forward to working on my next project... as long as it is mine. I can't do the deadline thing. Not with so much else going on. And my brain is kind of broken, and that is ok.
There is nothing wrong with deadlines. But I don't owe anyone anything, re: my own writing - only myself. And I do not want it to make me unhappy. It has made me unhappy in the past. I just don't see the point in doing it if it makes me unhappy. It is fine to work and live and know that I'll get to work on it more over break, and maybe more in the spring, and in the summer. That's fine.
It's just that it's really easy to keep thinking that I need to get somewhere and do something. Without noting that I am somewhere and am doing things. I mean, I want to keep going, and I also want to appreciate what I have. I just am bad at noticing when my brain shuffles its way into pathology. Pathological writerly thinking, people: it's a thing. Maybe I'm the only one with it. But I doubt it.
Tonight I'm going to not-write but also not-worry about not-writing, nor am I going to think the world is going to not somehow be something it could be if I don't. That's just dumb.
Because really, what I REALLY wish I had today is not time to write. I wish I had a pug.