As a part of my new year, Digital spring cleaning. Old writings found in cleaning up my files

October 3rd 2014(Day this was written) I’m starting to think the only time I can focus any more is away from my family. This thinking doesn’t have a simple explanation to it. In fact it comes of as a prideful method to my work as a writer. My father this morning got up and cursed out some poor city slicker on the phone. This of course wakes me to my mother laughing at him in his rage, which I’ m sure she has developed as a defense mechanism to counter his temper tantrums. Nothing gets out of hand but he does march up and down the hall, nick picking at every issue. Why do we as people tolerate things like this… its because we love him. My life is totally about love for my family and respect for them. Any thing that I have established about myself is owed to them. My state of mind, my broken traumatic childhood which taught me over time about life and it’s lets down, the kindness words you can say, and the meanness phrase you can put out there. This is my family, the ones I love. But damn it! I can’t focus. My mother sits around and fumes about my father and his behavior. My nephew is constantly up to any 12 years olds sneaky crap he can get way, and my father yells. Don’t get me wrong; He loves his life there in the country. He always say he rather be away from where people could find him easily. I guess that where I going with this move. Away from the studio apartment many have come to know as my Bachelor’s Pad. I didn’t really myself getting anything done there when it came to staying in that apartment when it came to writing and I feel the same way at my mom’s house. It dawned on me, I used to feel like the loneliness and lack of people in my house through me off focus, but know I see its because my thinking is different when I comfortable. Laying on the couch, sitting down stairs, lying in the guest room all make me too comfortable and I loses my muse of adventure for my writing. I no longer hold the advantage of my imagination and I don’t feel like writing. Maybe in the blog at times, but I never just sat down and really got any school work, personal projects, or free time poems. I haven’t even had my finger fly over my keyboard in two days and I realize…. I not writing…. I should be writing…. but I’m not. These are the times when I am really, really feel crazy about being in school. I even considered moving back home for a moment before I decided to crash with my co-worker at his mother’s house. I need to feel uneasy in order to write. I doubt if that makes sense. It’s like sometimes I need to be under pressure or running out of time. -AD